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The  Testing  of  Diana  Mallory 


"THERE  SHE  WAITED  WHILE  THE  DAWN  STOLE  UPON  THE  NIGHT  " 


BOOKS  BY 
MRS.  HUMPHRY  WARD 

THE  TESTING  OP  DIANA  MALLORT.  Ill'd.  .  .  $1.50 

LADY  ROSE'S  DAUGHTER.  Illustrated  .  .  .  1.50 

Two  volume  edition 3.00 

THE  MARRIAGE  OF  WILLIAM  ASHB.  Ill'd.  .  .  1.50 

Two  volume  Autograph  edition  .  .  net  4.00 

FENWICK'S  CAREER.  Illustrated- 1.50 

De  Luxe  edition,  two  volumes.  .  .  net  5.00 

ELEANOR 1.50 

LIFE  OF  W.  T.  ARNOLD net  1.50 

HARPER  &   BROTHERS,  PUBLISHERS,  N.  Y. 


Copyright,  1907,  1908,  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS. 

All  rights  rtstnttf. 

Published  September,  1908. 


TO 
MY    KIND    HOSTS    BEYOND   THE   ATLANTIC 

FROM 

A   GRATEFUL   TRAVELLER 


JULY.    19O8 


Illustrations 

"THERE  SHE  WAITED  WHILE  THE  DAWN  STOLE  UPON 

THE    NIGHT  " Frontispiece 

"THE  MAN'S  PULSES  LEAPED  ANEW" Facing  p.  98 

"YOU  NEEDN'T  BE  CROSS  WITH  ME,  DIANA"  ...  "  174 
"'DEAR  LADY,'  HE  SAID,  GENTLY,  'i  THINK  YOU 

OUGHT  TO  GIVE  WAY!'" "  256 

"  ALICIA,  UPRIGHT  IN  HER  CORNER OLIVER,  DEEP 

IN  HIS  ARMCHAIR" "  332 

"SIR  JAMES  PLAYED  DIANA*S  GAME  WITH  PERFECT 

DISCRETION" "  462 

"  SIR  JAMES  MADE  HIMSELF  DELIGHTFUL  TO  THEM"  .  "  492 

"  ROUGHSEDGE  STOOD  NEAR,  RELUCTANTLY  WAITING"  "  514 


Part  I 


'* Action  is  transitory — a  step,  a  blow. 
The  motion  of  a  muscle — this  way  or  that — • 
"Tis  done,  and  in  the  after-vacancy 
We  wonder  at  ourselves  like  men  betrayed: 
Suffering  is  permanent,  obscure,  and  dark, 
And  shares  the  nature  of  infinity" 

— THE  BORDERERS. 


The  Testing  of  Diana  Mallorg 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  clock  in  the  tower  of  the  village  church  had  just 
struck  the  quarter.  In  the  southeast  a  pale  dawn 
light  was  beginning  to  show  above  the  curving  hollow  of 
the  down  wherein  the  village  lay  enfolded;  but  the  face 
of  the  down  itself  was  still  in  darkness.  Farther  to  the 
south,  in  a  stretch  of  clear  night  sky  hardly  touched  by 
the  mounting  dawn,  Venus  shone  enthroned,  so  large  and 
brilliant,  so  near  to  earth  and  the  spectator,  that  she 
held,  she  pervaded  the  whole  dusky  scene,  the  shadowed 
fields  and  wintry  woods,  as  though  she  were  their  very 
soul  and  voice. 

"The  Star  of  Bethlehem !— and  Christmas  Day!" 
Diana  Mallory  had  just  drawn  back  the  curtain  of 
her  bedroom.  Her  voice,  as  she  murmured  the  words, 
was  full  of  a  joyous  delight;  eagerness  and  yearning 
expressed  themselves  in  her  bending  attitude,  her  parted 
lips  and  eyes  intent  upon  the  star. 

The  panelled  room  behind  her  was  dimly  lit  by  a 
solitary  candle,  just  kindled.  The  faint  dawn  in  front, 
the  flickering  candle-light  behind,  illumined  Diana's  tall 
figure,  wrapped  in  a  white  dressing-gown,  her  small  head 
and  slender  neck,  the  tumbling  masses  of  her  dark  hair, 

3 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

and  the  hand  holding  the  curtain.     It  was  a  kind  and 
poetic  light ;  but  her  youth  and  grace  needed  no  softening. 

After  the  striking  of  the  quarter,  the  church  bell  began 
to  ring,  with  a  gentle,  yet  insistent  note  which  gradually 
filled  the  hollows  of  the  village,  and  echoed  along  the 
side  of  the  down.  Once  or  twice  the  sound  was  effaced 
by  the  rush  and  roar  of  a  distant  train;  and  once  the 
call  of  an  owl  from  a  wood,  a  call  melancholy  and  pro- 
longed, was  raised  as  though  in  rivalry.  But  the  bell 
held  Diana's  strained  ear  throughout  its  course,  till  its 
mild  clangor  passed  into  the  deeper  note  of  the  clock 
striking  the  hour,  and  then  all  sounds  alike  died  into 
a  profound  yet  listening  silence. 

"Eight  o'clock!  That  was  for  early  service,"  she 
thought;  and  there  flashed  into  her  mind  an  image  of 
the  old  parish  church,  dimly  lit  for  the  Christmas 
Eucharist,  its  walls  and  pillars  decorated  with  ivy  and 
holly,  yet  austere  and  cold  through  all  its  adornings,  with 
its  bare  walls  and  pale  windows.  She  shivered  a  little, 
for  her  youth  had  been  accustomed  to  churches  all  color 
and  lights  and  furnishings — churches  of  another  type  and 
faith.  But  instantly  some  warm  leaping  instinct  met 
the  shrinking,  and  overpowered  it.  She  smote  her  hands 
together. 

"England! — England! — my  own,  own  country!" 

She  dropped  upon  the  window-seat  half  laughing,  yet 
the  tears  in  her  eyes.  And  there,  with  her  face  pressed 
against  the  glass,  she  waited  while  the  dawn  stole  upon 
the  night,  while  in  the  park  the  trees  emerged  upon  the 
grass  white  with  rime,  while  on  the  face  of  the  down 
thickets  and  paths  became  slowly  visible,  while  the  first 
wreaths  of  smoke  began  to  curl  and  hover  in  the  frosty 
air. 

4 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

Suddenly,  on  a  path  which  climbed  the  hill-side  till  it 
was  lost  in  the  beech  wood  which  crowned  the  summit, 
she  saw  a  flock  of  sheep,  and  behind  them  a  shepherd 
boy  running  from  side  to  side.  At  the  sight,  her  eyes 
kindled  again.  "Nothing  changes,"  she  thought,  "in 
this  country  life!"  On  the  morning  of  Charles  I.'s 
execution — in  the  winters  and  springs  when  Elizabeth 
was  Queen — while  Becket  lay  dead  on  Canterbury  steps 
— when  Harold  was  on  his  way  to  Senlac — that  hill, 
that  path  were  there — sheep  were  climbing  it,  and 
shepherds  were  herding  them.  "It  has  been  so  since 
England  began — it  will  be  so  when  I  am  dead.  We  are 
only  shadows  that  pass.  But  England  lives  always — 
always — and  shall  live!" 

And  still,  in  a  trance  of  feeling,  she  feasted  her  eyes 
on  the  quiet  country  scene. 

The  old  house  which  Diana  Mallory  had  just  begun  ', 
to  inhabit  stood  upon  an  upland,  but  it  was  an  upland 
so  surrounded  by  hills  to  north  and  east  and  south  that 
it  seemed  rather  a  close-girt  valley,  leaned  over  and 
sheltered  by  the  downs.  Pastures  studded  with  trees 
sloped  away  from  the  house  on  all  sides;  the  village  was 
hidden  from  it  by  boundary  woods ;  only  the  church  tower 
emerged.  From  the  deep  oriel  window  where  she  sat 
Diana  could  see  a  projecting  wing  of  the  house  itself, 
its  mellowed  red  brick,  its  Jacobean  windows  and  roof. 
She  could  see  also  a  corner  of  the  moat  with  its  running 
stream,  a  moat  much  older  than  the  building  it  encircled, 
and  beneath  her  eyes  lay  a  small  formal  garden  planned 
in  the  days  of  John  Evelyn — with  its  fountain  and  its 
sundial,  and  its  beds  in  arabesque.  The  cold  light  of 
December  lay  upon  it  all ;  there  was  no  special  beauty  in 
the  landscape,  and  no  magnificence  in  the  house  or  its 

5 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

surroundings.  But  every  detail  of  what  she  saw  pleased 
the  girl's  taste,  and  satisfied  her  heart.  All  the  while  she 
was  comparing  it  with  other  scenes  and  another  land- 
scape, amid  which  she  had  lived  till  now — a  monotonous 
blue  sea,  mountains  scorched  and  crumbled  by  the  sun, 
dry  palms  in  hot  gardens,  roads  choked  with  dust  and 
tormented  with  a  plague  of  motor-cars,  white  villas 
crowded  among  high  walls,  a  wilderness  of  hotels,  and 
everywhere  a  chattering  unlovely  crowd. 

"Thank  goodness! — that's  done  with,"  she  thought — 
only  to  fall  into  a  sudden  remorse.  "Papa — papa! — if 
you  were  only  here  tool" 

She  pressed  her  hands  to  her  eyes,  which  were  moist 
with  sudden  tears.  But  the  happiness  in  her  heart  over- 
came the  pang,  sharp  and  real  as  it  was.  Oh!  how 
blessed  to  have  done  with  the  Riviera,  and  its  hybrid 
empty  life,  for  good  and  all! — how  blessed  even,  to  have 
done  with  the  Alps  and  Italy! — how  blessed,  above  all, 
to  have  come  home! — home  into  the  heart  of  this  Eng- 
lish land — warm  mother-heart,  into  which  she,  stranger 
and  orphan,  might  creep  and  be  at  rest. 

The  eloquence  of  her  own  thoughts  possessed  her. 
They  flowed  on  in  a  warm,  mute  rhetoric,  till  suddenly 
the  Comic  Spirit  was  there,  and  patriotic  rapture  began 
to  see  itself.  She,  the  wanderer,  the  exile,  what  did  she 
know  of  England — or  England  of  her?  What  did  she 
know  of  this  village  even,  this  valley  in  which  she  had 
pitched  her  tent  ?  She  had  taken  an  old  house,  because 
it  had  pleased  her  fancy,  because  it  had  Tudor  gables, 
pretty  panelling,  and  a  sundial.  But  what  natural  link 
had  she  with  it,  or  with  these  peasants  and  countrymen  ? 
She  had  no  true  roots  here.  What  she  had  done  was 
mere  whim  and  caprice.  She  was  an  alien,  like  anybody 

6 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

else — like  the  new  men  and  prowling  millionaires,  who 
bought  old  English  properties,  moved  thereto  by  a  feel- 
ing which  was  none  the  less  snobbish  because  it  was  also 
sentimental. 

She  drew  herself  up — rebelling  hotly — yet  not  seeing 
how  to  disentangle  herself  from  these  associates.  And 
she.  was  still  struggling  to  put  herself  back  in  the  ro- 
mantic mood,  and  to  see  herself  and  her  experiment 
anew  in  the  romantic  light,  when  her  maid  knocked  at 
the  door,  and  distraction  entered  with  letters,  and  a  cup 
of  tea. 

An  hour  later  Miss  Mallory  left  her  room  behind  her, 
and  went  tripping  down  the  broad  oak  staircase  of  Beech- 
cote  Manor. 

By  this  time  romance  was  uppermost  again,  and  self- 
congratulation.  She  was  young — just  twenty- two;  she 
was — she  knew  it — agreeable  to  look  upon;  she  had  as 
much  money  as  any  reasonable  woman  need  want;  she 
had  already  seen  a  great  deal  of  the  world  outside  Eng- 
land ;  and  she  had  fallen  headlong  in  love  with  this  charm- 
ing old  house,  and  had  now,  in  spite  of  various  difficul- 
ties, managed  to  possess  herself  of  it,  and  plant  her  life  in 
it.  Full  of  ghosts  it  might  be ;  but  she  was  its  living  mis- 
tress henceforth ;  nor  was  it  either  ridiculous  or  snobbish 
that  she  should  love  it  and  exult  in  it — quite  the  contrary. 
And  she  paused  on  the  slippery  stairs,  to  admire  the  old 
panelled  hall  below,  the  play  of  wintry  sunlight  on  the 
oaken  surfaces  she  herself  had  rescued  from  desecrating 
paint,  and  the  effect  of  some  old  Persian  rugs,  which  had 
only  arrived  from  London  the  night  before,  on  the  dark 
polished  boards.  For  Diana,  there  were  two  joys  con- 
nected with  the  old  house:  the  joy  of  entering  in,  a 

7 


The  Testing    of   Diana   Mallory 

stranger  and  conqueror,  on  its  guarded  and  matured 
beauty,  and  the  joy  of  adding  to  that  beauty  by  a  deft 
modernness.  Very  deft,  and  tender,  and  skilful  it  must 
be.  But  no  one  could  say  that  time-worn  Persian  rugs, 
with  their  iridescent  blue  and  greens  and  rose  reds — or 
old  Italian  damask  and  cut-velvet  from  Genoa,  or  Flor- 
ence, or  Venice — were  out  of  harmony  with  the  charm- 
ing Jacobean  rooms.  It  was  the  horrible  furniture 
of  the  Vavasours,  the  ancestral  possessors  of  the  place, 
which  had  been  an  offence  and  a  disfigurement.  In 
moving  it  out  and  replacing  it,  Diana  felt  that  she  had 
become  the  spiritual  child  of  the  old  house,  in  spite  of 
her  alien  blood.  There  is  a  kinship  not  of  the  flesh; 
and  it  thrilled  all  through  her. 

But  just  as  her  pause  of  daily  homage  to  the  place  in 
which  she  found  herself  was  over,  and  she  was  about  to 
run  down  the  remaining  stairs  to  the  dining-room,  a 
new  thought  delayed  her  for  a  moment  by  the  staircase 
window — the  thought  of  a  lady  who  would  no  doubt  be 
waiting  for  her  at  the  breakfast-table. 

Mrs.  Colwood,  Miss  Mallory's  new  chaperon  and  com- 
panion, had  arrived  the  night  before,  on  Christmas  Eve. 
She  had  appeared  just  in  time  for  dinner,  and  the  two 
ladies  had  spent  the  evening  together.  Diana's  first  im- 
pressions had  been  pleasant — yes,  certainly,  pleasant; 
though  Mrs.  Colwood  had  been  shy,  and  Diana  still 
more  so.  There  could  be  no  question  but  that  Mrs.  Col- 
wood was  refined,  intelligent,  and  attractive.  Her  gentle, 
almost  childish  looks  appealed  for  her.  So  did  her  deep 
black,  and  the  story  which  explained  it.  Diana  had 
heard  of  her  from  a  friend  in  Rome,  where  Mrs.  Colwood's 
husband,  a  young  Indian  Civil  servant,  had  died  of  fever 
and  lung  mischief,  on  his  way  to  England  for  a  long  sick 

8 


The   Testing    of    Diana   Mallorg 

leave .  and  where  the  little  widow  had  touched  the  hearts 
of  all  who  came  in  contact  with  her. 

Diana  thought,  with  one  of  her  ready  compunctions, 
that  she  had  not  been  expansive  enough  the  night  before. 
She  ran  down-stairs,  determined  to  make  Mrs.  Colwood 
feel  at  home  at  once. 

When  she  entered  the  dining-room  the  new  companion 
was  standing  beside  the  window  looking  out  upon  the 
formal  garden  and  the  lawn  beyond  it.  Her  attitude  was 
a  little  drooping,  and  as  she  turned  to  greet  her  hostess 
and  employer,  Diana's  quick  eyes  seemed  to  perceive 
a  trace  of  recent  tears  on  the  small  face.  The  girl 
was  deeply  touched,  though  she  made  no  sign.  Poor 
little  thing !  A  widow,  and  childless,  in  a  strange 
place. 

Mrs.  Colwood,  however,  showed  no  further  melan- 
choly. vShe  was  full  of  admiration  for  the  beauty  of 
the  frosty  morning,  the  trees  touched  with  rime,  the 
browns  and  purples  of  the  distant  woods.  She  spoke 
shyly,  but  winningly,  of  the  comfort  of  her  room,  and 
the  thoughtfulness  with  which  Miss  Mallory  had  arranged 
it;  she  could  not  say  enough  of  the  picturesqueness  of 
the  house.  Yet  there  was  nothing  fulsome  in  her  praise. 
She  had  the  gift  which  makes  the  saying  of  sweet  and 
flattering  things  appear  the  merest  simplicity.  They 
escaped  her  whether  she  would  or  no — that  at  least  was 
the  impression;  and  Diana  found  it  agreeable.  So  agree- 
ble  that  before  they  had  been  ten  minutes  at  table  Miss 
Mallory,  in  response,  was  conscious  on  her  own  part  of  an 
unusually  strong  wish  to  please  her  new  companion — to 
make  a  good  effect.  Diana,  indeed,  was  naturally  gov- 
erned by  the  wish  to  please.  She  desired  above  all 
things  to  be  liked — that  is,  if  she  could  not  be  loyeci. 
»  9 


The  Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

Mrs.  Colwood  brought  with  her  a  warm  and  favoring 
atmosphere.     Diana  unfolded. 

In  the  course  of  this  first  exploratory  conversation, 
it  appeared  that  the  two  ladies  had  many  experiences  in 
common.  Mrs.  Colwood  had  been  two  years,  her  two 
short  years  of  married  life,  in  India ;  Diana  had  travelled 
there  with  her  father.  Also,  as  a  girl,  Mrs.  Colwood  had 
spent  a  winter  at  Cannes,  and  another  at  Santa  Mar- 
gherita.  Diana  expressed  with  vehemence  her  weariness 
of  the  Riviera;  but  the  fact  that  Mrs.  Colwood  differed 
from  her  led  to  all  the  more  conversation. 

"  My  father  would  never  come  home,"  sighed  Diana. 
"  He  hated  the  English  climate,  even  in  summer.  Every 
year  I  used  to  beg  him  to  let  us  go  to  England.  But  he 
never  would.  We  lived  abroad,  first,  I  suppose,  for  his 
health,  and  then — I  can't  explain  it.  Perhaps  he  thought 
he  had  been  so  long  away  he  would  find  no  old  friends 
left.  And  indeed  so  many  of  them  had  died.  But 
whenever  I  talked  of  it  he  began  to  look  old  and  ill.  So 
I  never  could  press  it — never!" 

The  girl's  voice  fell  to  a  lower  note  —  musical,  and 
full  of  memory.  Mrs.  Colwood  noticed  the  quality  of  it. 

"Of  course  if  my  mother  had  lived,"  said  Diana,  in 
the  same  tone,  "  it  would  have  been  different." 

"  But  she  died  when  you  were  a  child?" 

"  Eighteen  years  ago.  I  can  just  remember  it.  We 
were  in  London  then.  Afterwards  father  took  me 
abroad,  and  we  never  came  back.  Oh!  the  waste  of  all 
those  years!" 

"Waste?"  Mrs.  Colwood  probed  the  phrase  a  little. 
Diana  insisted,  first  with  warmth,  and  then  with  an 
eloquence  that  startled  her  companion,  that  for  an  Eng- 

10 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

lishwoman  to  be  brought  up  outside  England,  away  from 
country  and  countrymen,  was  to  waste  and  forego  a 
hundred  precious  things  that  might  have  been  gathered 
up.  "  I  used  to  be  ashamed  when  I  talked  to  English 
people.  Not  that  we  saw  many.  We  lived  for  years  and 
years  at  a  little  villa  near  Rapallo,  and  in  the  summer  we 
used  to  go  up  into  the  mountains,  away  from  everybody. 
But  after  we  came  back  from  a  long  tour,  we  lived  for  a 
time  at  a  hotel  in  Mentone — our  own  little  house  was  let 
— and  I  used  to  talk  to  people  there — though  papa  never 
liked  making  friends.  And  I  made  ridiculous  mistakes 
about  English  things — and  they'd  laugh.  But  one  can't 
know — unless  one  has  lived — has  breathed  in  a  country, 
from  one's  birth.  That's  what  I've  lost." 

Mrs.  Colwood  demurred. 

"Think  of  the  people  who  wish  they  had  grown  up 
without  ever  reading  or  hearing  about  the  Bible,  so  that 
they  might  read  it  for  the  first  time,  when  they  could 
really  understand  it.  You  feel  England  all  the  more 
intensely  now  because  you  come  fresh  to  her." 

Diana  sprang  up,  with  a  change  of  face — half  laugh, 
half  frown. 

"Yes,  I  feel  her!     Above  all,  I  feel  her  enemies!" 

She  let  in  her  dog,  a  fine  collie,  who  was  scratching 
at  the  door.  As  she  stood  before  the  fire,  holding  up  a 
biscuit  for  him  to  jump  at,  she  turned  a  red  and  con- 
scious face  towards  her  companion.  The  fire  in  the 
eyes,  the  smile  on  the  lip  seemed  to  say: 

"There! — now  we  have  come  to  it.  This  is  my  pas- 
sion— -my  hobby — this  is  me!" 

"Her  enemies!     You  are  political?" 

"Desperately!" 

"A  Tory?" 

ii 


The  Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

"  Fanatical.  But  that's  only  part  of  it,  '  What  should 
they  know  of  England,  that  only  England  know!"1 

Miss  Mallory  threw  back  her  head  with  a  gesture  that 
became  it. 

"Ah,  I  see — an  Imperialist?" 

Diana  nodded,  smiling.  She  had  seated  herself  in  a 
chair  by  the  fireside.  Her  dog's  head  was  on  her  knees, 
and  one  of  her  slender  hands  rested  on  the  black  and 
tan.  Mrs.  Colwood  admired  the  picture.  Miss  Mallory's 
sloping  shoulders  and  long  waist  were  well  shown  by  her 
simple  dress  of  black  and  closely  fitting  serge.  Her  head 
crowned  and  piled  with  curly  black  hair,  carried  itself 
with  an  amazing  self-possesion  and  pride,  which  was  yet 
all  feminine.  This  young  woman  might  talk  politics, 
thought  her  new  friend;  no  male  man  would  call  her 
prater,  while  she  bore  herself  with  that  air.  Her  eyes — 
the  chaperon  noticed  it  for  the  first  time — owed  some 
of  their  remarkable  intensity,  no  doubt,  to  short  sight. 
They  were  large,  finely  colored  and  thickly  fringed,  but 
their  slightly  veiled  concentration  suggested  an  habitual, 
though  quite  unconscious  struggle  to  see — with  that  clear- 
ness which  the  mind  behind  demanded  of  them.  The 
complexion  was  a  clear  brunette,  the  cheeks  rosy;  the 
nose  was  slightly  tilted,  the  mouth  fresh  and  beautiful 
though  large;  and  the  face  of  a  lovely  oval.  Altogether, 
an  aspect  of  rich  and  glowing  youth :  no  perfect  beauty ; 
but  something  arresting,  ardent — charged,  perhaps  over- 
charged, with  personality.  Mrs.  Colwood  said  to  herself 
that  life  at  Beechcote  would  be  no  stagnant  pool. 

While  they  lingered  in  the  drawing-room  before  church, 
she  kept  Diana  talking.  It  seemed  that  Miss  Mallory 
had  seen  Egypt,  India,  and  Canada,  in  the  course 
of  her  last  two  years  of  life  with  her  father.  Their 

12 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

travels  had  spread  over  more  than  a  year;  and  Diana 
had  brought  Mr.  Mallory  back  to  the  Riviera,  only, 
it  appeared,  to  die,  after  some  eight  months  of  illness. 
But  in  securing  to  her  that  year  of  travel,  her  father 
had  bestowed  his  last  and  best  gift  upon  her.  Aided 
by  his  affection,  and  stimulated  by  his  knowledge,  her 
mind  and  character  had  rapidly  developed.  And,  as 
through  a  natural  outlet,  all  her  starved  devotion  for 
the  England  she  had  never  known,  had  spent  itself 
upon  the  Englands  she  found  beyond  the  seas;  upon 
the  hard-worked  soldiers  and  civilians  in  lonely  Indian 
stations,  upon  the  captains  of  English  ships,  upon  the 
pioneers  of  Canadian  fields  and  railways;  upon  Eng- 
land, in  fact,  as  the  arbiter  of  oriental  faiths — the  wrestler 
with  the  desert — the  mother  and  maker  of  new  states. 
A  passion  for  the  work  of  her  race  beyond  these  narrow 
seas— a  passion  of  sympathy,  which  was  also  a  passion 
of  antagonism,  since  every  phase  of  that  work,  according 
to  Miss  Mallory,  had  been  dogged  by  the  hate  and 
calumny  of  base  minds — expressed  itself  through  her 
charming  mouth,  with  a  quite  astonishing  fluency.  Mrs. 
Colwood's  mind  moved  uneasily.  She  had  expected  an 
orphan  girl,  ignorant  of  the  world,  whom  she  might 
mother,  and  perhaps  mould.  She  found  a  young  Egeria, 
talking  politics  with  raised  color  and  a  throbbing  voice, 
as  other  girls  might  talk  of  lovers  or  chiffons.  vEgeria's 
companion  secretly  and  with  some  alarm  reviewed  her 
own  equipment  in  these  directions.  Miss  Mallory  dis- 
coursed of  India.  Mrs.  Colwood  had  lived  in  it.  But 
her  husband  had  entered  the  Indian  Civil  Service,  simply 
in  order  that  he  might  have  money  enough  to  marry  her. 
And  during  their  short  time  together,  they  had  proba- 
bly been  more  keenly  alive  to  the  depreciation  of  the 


The  Testing    of  Diana   Mallory 

rupee  than  to  ideas  of  England's  imperial  mission.  But 
Herbert  had  done  his  duty,  of  course  he  had.  Once 
or  twice  as  Miss  Mallory  talked  the  little  widow's  eyes 
filled  with  tears  again  unseen.  The  Indian  names  Diana 
threw  so  proudly  into  air  were,  for  her  companion, 
symbols  of  heart-break  and  death.  But  she  played  her 
part;  and  her  comments  and  interjections  were  all  that 
was  necessary  to  keep  the  talk  flowing. 

In  the  midst  of  it  voices  were  suddenly  heard  outside. 
Diana  started. 

"Carols!"  she  said,  with  flushing  cheeks.  "The  first 
time  I  have  heard  them  in  England  itself!" 

She  flew  to  the  hall,  and  threw  the  door  open.  A  hand- 
ful of  children  appeared  shouting  "Good  King  Wences- 
las"  in  a  hideous  variety  of  keys.  Miss  Mallory  heard 
them  with  enthusiasm ;  then  turned  to  the  butler  behind 
her. 

"Give  them  a  shilling,  please,  Brown." 

A  quick  change  passed  over  the  countenance  of  the 
man  addressed. 

"Lady  Emily,  ma'am,  never  gave  more  than  three- 
pence." 

This  stately  person  had  formerly  served  the  Vavasours, 
and  was  much  inclined  to  let  his  present  mistress  know  it. 

Diana  looked  disappointed,  but  submissive. 

"Oh,  very  well,  Brown — I  don't  want  to  alter  any  of 
the  old  ways.  But  I  hear  the  choir  will  come  up  to-night. 
Now  they  must  have  five  shillings — and  supper,  please, 
Brown." 

Brown  drew  himself  up  a  little  more  stiffly. 

"  Lady  Emily  always  gave  'em  supper,  ma'am,  but, 
begging  your  pardon,  she  didn't  hold  at  all  with  giving 
'em  money." 

14 


The    Testing    of   Diana   Mallory 

"Oh,  I  don't  care!"  said  Miss  Mallory,  hastily.  "I'm 
sure  they'll  like  it,  Brown!  Five  shillings,  please." 

Brown  withdrew,  and  Diana,  with  a  laughing  face 
and  her  hands  over  her  ears,  to  mitigate  the  farewell 
bawling  of  the  children,  turned  to  Mrs.  Colwood,  with  an 
invitation  to  dress  for  church. 

"  The  first  time  for  me,"  she  explained.  "  I  have  been 
coming  up  and  down,  for  a  month  or  more,  two  or  three 
days  at  a  time,  to  see  to  the  furnishing.  But  now  I  am 
at  home!" 

The  Christmas  service  in  the  parish  church  was  agree- 
able enough.  The  Beechcote  pew  was  at  the  back  of 
the  church,  and  as  the  new  mistress  of  the  old  house 
entered  and  walked  down  the  aisle,  she  drew  the  eyes  of 
a  large  congregation  of  rustics  and  small  shopkeepers. 
Diana  moved  in  a  kind  of  happy  absorption,  glancing 
gently  from  side  to  side.  This  gathering  of  villagers  was 
to  her  representative  of  a  spiritual  and  national  fellow- 
ship to  which  she  came  now  to  be  joined.  The  old  church, 
wreathed  in  ivy  and  holly;  the  tombs  in  the  southern 
aisle ;  the  loaves  standing  near  the  porch  for  distribution 
after  service,  in  accordance  with  an  old  benefaction;  the 
fragments  of  fifteenth-century  glass  in  the  windows; 
the  school-children  to  her  left;  the  singing,  the  prayers, 
the  sermon — found  her  in  a  welcoming,  a  child-like  mood. 
She  knelt,  she  sang,  she  listened,  like  one  undergoing 
initiation,  with  a  tender  aspiring  light  in  her  eyes,  and 
an  eager  mobility  of  expression. 

Mrs.  Colwood  was  more  critical.  fThe  clergyman  who 
preached  the  sermon  did  not,  in  fact,  please  her  at  all. 
He  was  a  thin  High  Churchman,  with  an  oblong  face  and 
head,  narrow  shoulders,  and  a  spare  frame.  He  wore 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

spectacles,  and  his  voice  was  disagreeably  pitched.  His 
sermon  was  nevertheless  remarkable.  A  bare  yet  pene- 
trating style;  a  stern  view  of  life;  the  voice  of  a  prophet, 
and  apparently  the  views  of  a  socialist — all  these  he 
possessed.  None  of  them,  it  might  have  been  thought, 
were  especially  fitted  to  capture  either  the  female  or  the 
rustic  mind.  Yet  it  could  not  be  denied  that  the  congre- 
gation was  unusually  good  for  a  village  church;  and  by 
the  involuntary  sigh  which  Miss  Mallory  gave  as  the 
sermon  ended,  Mrs.  Col  wood  was  able  to  gauge  the 
profound  and  docile  attention  with  which  one  at  least 
had  listened  to  it. 

After  church  there  was  much  lingering  in  the  church- 
yard for  the  exchange  of  Christmas  greetings.  Mrs. 
Colwood  found  herself  introduced  to  the  Vicar,  Mr. 
La  very;  to  a  couple  of  maiden  ladies  of  the  name  of 
Bertram,  who  seemed  to  have  a  good  deal  to  do  with  the 
Vicar,  and  with  the  Church  affairs  of  the  village;  and 
to  an  elderly  couple,  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Roughsedge,  white- 
haired,  courteous,  and  kind,  who  were  accompanied  by 
a  soldier  son,  in  whom  it  was  evident  they  took  a  bound- 
less pride.  The  young  man,  of  a  handsome  and  open 
countenance,  looked  at  Miss  Mallory  as  much  as  good 
manners  allowed.  She,  however,  had  eyes  for  no  one  but 
the  Vicar,  with  whom  she  started,  tete-a-tete,  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  Vicarage. 

Mrs.  Colwood  followed,  shyly  making  acquaintance 
with  the  Roughsedges,  and  the  elder  Miss  Bertram. 
That  lady  was  tall,  fair,  and  faded;  she  had  a  sharp, 
handsome  nose,  and  a  high  forehead;  and  her  eyes, 
which  hardly  ever  met  those  of  the  person  with  whom 
she  talked,  gave  the  impression  of  a  soul  preoccupied, 
with  few  or  none  of  the  ordinary  human  curiosities. 

16 


The    Testing    of   Diana   Mallorg 

Mrs.  Roughsedge,  on  the -other  hand,  was  most  human, 
motherly,  and  inquisitive.  She  wore  two  curls  on  either 
side  of  her  face  held  by  small  combs,  a  large  bonnet, 
and  an  ample  cloak.  It  was  clear  that  whatever  adora- 
tion she  could  spare  from  her  husband  was  lavished  on 
her  son.  But  there  was  still  enough  good  temper  and 
good  will  left  to  overflow  upon  the  rest  of  mankind.  She 
perceived  in  a  moment  that  Mrs.  Colwood  was  the  new 
"companion"  to  the  heiress,  that  she  was  a  widow,  and 
sad — in  spite  of  her  cheerfulness. 

"Now  I  hope  Miss  Mallory  is  going  to  like  us!"  she 
said,  with  a  touch  of  confidential  good-humor,  as  she 
drew  Mrs.  Colwood  a  little  behind  the  others.  "We  are 
all  in  love  with  her  already.  But  she  must  be  patient 
with  us.  We're  very  humdrum  folk!" 

Mrs.  Colwood  could  only  say  that  Miss  Mallory  seem- 
ed to  be  in  love  with  everything — the  house,  the  church, 
the  village,  and  the  neighbors.  Mrs.  Roughsedge  shook 
her  gray  curls,  smiling,  as  she  replied  that  this  was  no 
doubt  partly  due  to  novelty.  After  her  long  residence 
abroad,  Miss  Mallory  was — it  was  very  evident — glad  to 
come  home.  Poor  thing — she  must  have  known  a  great 
deal  of  trouble — an  only  child,  and  no  mother!  "Well, 
I'm  sure  if  there's  anything  we  can  do — " 

Mrs.  Roughsedge  nodded  cheerfully  towards  her  hus- 
band and  son  in  front.  The  gesture  awakened  a  certain 
natural  reserve  in  Mrs.  Colwood,  followed  by  a  quick 
feeling  of  amusement  with  herself  that  she  should  so 
soon  have  developed  the  instinct  of  the  watch-dog. 
But  it  was  not  to  be  denied  that  the  new  mistress  of 
Beechcote  was  well  endowed,  as  single  women  go.  Fond 
mothers  with  marriageable  sons  might  require  some 
handling. 

n 


The   Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

But  Mrs.  Roughsedge's  simple  kindness  soon  baffled 
distrust.  And  Mrs.  Colwood  was  beginning  to  talk  freely, 
when  suddenly  the  Vicar  and  Miss  Mallory  in  front 
came  to  a  stop.  The  way  to  the  Vicarage  lay  along  a 
side  road.  The  Roughsedges  also,  who  had  walked  so 
far  for  sociability's  sake,  must  return  to  the  village  and 
early  dinner.  The  party  broke  up.  Miss  Mallory,  as  she 
made  her  good-byes,  appeared  a  little  flushed  and  dis- 
composed. But  the  unconscious  fire  in  her  glance,  and 
the  vigor  of  her  carriage,  did  but  add  to  her  good  looks. 
Captain  Roughsedge,  as  he  touched  her  hand,  asked 
whether  he  should  find  her  at  home  that  afternoon  if  he 
called,  and  Diana  absently  said  yes. 

(^What  a  strange  impracticable  man!"  cried  Miss 
Mallory  hotly,  as  the  ladies  turned  into  the  Beechcote 
drive.  "  It  is  really  a  misfortune  to  find  a  man  of  such 
opinions  in  this  place." 

"The  Vicar?"  said  Mrs.  Colwood,  bewildered. 

"A  Little  Englander! — a  socialist!  And  so  rude  too! 
I  asked  him  to  let  me  help  him  with  his  poor — and  he 
threw  back  my  offers  in  my  face.  What  they  wanted,  he 
said,  was  not  charity,  but  justice.  And  justice  apparently 
means  cutting  up  the  property  of  the  rich,  and  giving  it 
to  the  poor.  Is  it  my  fault  if  the  Vavasours  neglected 
their  cottages?  I  just  mentioned  emigration,  and  he 
foamed!  I  am  sure  he  would  give  away  the  Colonies  for 
a  pinch_of  soap,  and  abolish  the  Army  and  Navy  to- 
morrow."^ 

DianaTs  face  glowed  with  indignation — with  wound- 
ed feeling  besides.  Mrs.  Colwood  endeavored  to  soothe 
her,  but  she  remained  grave  and  rather  silent  for  some 
time.  The  flow  of  Christmas  feeling  and  romantic 
pleasure  had  been  arrested,  and  the  memory  of  a  harsh 

18 


The   Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

personality  haunted  the  day.  In  the  afternoon,  however, 
in  the  unpacking  of  various  pretty  knick-knacks,  and  in 
the  putting  away  of  books  and  papers,  Diana  recovered 
herself.  She  flitted  about  the  house,  arranging  her 
favorite  books,  hanging  pictures,  and  disposing  em- 
broideries. The  old  walls  glowed  afresh  under  her  hand, 
and  from  the  combination  of  their  antique  beauty  with 
her  young  taste,  a  home  began  to  emerge,  stamped 
with  a  woman's  character  and  reflecting  her  enthusiasms. 
As  she  assisted  in  the  task,  Mrs.  Colwood  learned  many 
things.  She  gathered  that  Miss  Mallory  read  two  or  three 
languages,  that  she  was  passionately  fond  of  French  me- 
moirs and  the  French  classics,  that  her  father  had  taught 
her  Latin  and  German,  and  guided  every  phase  of  her  ed- 
ucation. Traces  indeed  of  his  poetic  and  scholarly  tem- 
per were  visible  throughout  his  daughter's  possessions 
— so  plainly,  that  at  last  as  they  came  nearly  to  the  end 
of  the  books,  Diana's  gayety  once  more  disappeared.  She 
moved  soberly  and  dreamily,  as  though  the  past  returned 
upon  her ;  and  once  or  twice  Mrs.  Colwood  came  upon  her 
standing  motionless,  her  finger  in  an  open  book,  her  eyes 
wandering  absently  through  the  casement  windows  to 
the  distant  wall  of  hill.  Sometimes,  as  she  bent  over  the 
books  and  packets  she  would  say  little  things,  or  quote 
stories  of  her  father,  which  seemed  to  show  a  pretty 
wish  on  her  part  to  make  the  lady  who  was  now  to  be 
her  companion  understand  something  of  the  feelings  and 
memories  on  which  her  life  was  based.  But  there  was 
dignity  in  it  all,  and,  besides,  a  fundamental  awe  and 
reserve.  Mrs.  Colwood  seemed  to  see  that  there  were 
remembrances  connected  with  her  father  far  too  poignant 
to  be  touched  in  speech. 

At  tea-time  Captain  Roughsedge  appeared.     Mrs.  Col- 

19 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallorg 

wood's  first  impression  of  his  good  manners  and  good 
looks  was  confirmed.  But  his  conversation  could  not 
be  said  to  flow:  and  in  endeavoring  to  entertain  him 
the  two  ladies  fought  a  rather  uphill  fight.  Then  Di- 
ana discovered  that  he  belonged  to  the  Sixtieth  Rifles, 
whereupon  the  young  lady  disclosed  a  knowledge  of  the 
British  Army,  and  its  organization,  which  struck  her 
visitor  as  nothing  short  of  astounding.  He  listened  to 
her  open-mouthed  while  she  rattled  on,  mainly  to  fill  up 
the  gaps  in  his  own  remarks;  and  when  she  paused,  he 
bluntly  complimented  her  on  her  information.  "Oh, 
that  was  papa!"  said  Diana,  with  a  smile  and  a  sigh. 
"  He  taught  me  all  he  could  about  the  Army,  though  he 
himself  had  only  been  a  Volunteer.  There  was  an  old 
History  of  the  British  Army  I  was  brought  up  on.  It 
was  useful  when  we  went  to  India — because  I  knew  so 
much  about  the  regiments  we  came  across." 

This  accomplishment  of  hers  proved  indeed  a  god- 
send; the  young  man  found  his  tongue;  and  the  visit 
ended  much  better  than  it  began. 

As  he  said  good-bye,  he  looked  round  the  drawing- 
room  in  wonderment. 

"How  you've  altered  it!  The  Vavasours  made  it 
hideous.  But  I've  only  been  in  this  room  twice  before, 
though  my  people  have  lived  here  thirty  years.  We 
were  never  smart  enough  for  Lady  Emily." 

He  colored  as  he  spoke,  and  Diana  suspected  in  him 
a  memory  of  small  past  humiliations.  Evidently  he  was 
sensitive  as  well  as  shy. 

"Hard  work  —  dear  young  man!"  she  said,  with  a 
smile,  and  a  stretch,  as  the  door  closed  upon  him.  "  But 
after  all — '  que  faime  k  militaire  ' !  Now,  shall  we  go 
back  to  work?" 

20 


The   Testing    o£   Diana    Mallory 

There  were  still  some  books  to  unpack.  Presently 
Mrs.  Colwood  found  herself  helping  to  carry  a  small  but 
heavy  box  of  papers  to  the  sitting-room  which  Diana 
had  arranged  for  herself  next  to  her  bedroom.  Mrs. 
Colwood  noticed  that  before  Diana  asked  her  assistance 
she  dismissed  her  new  maid,  who  had  been  till  then  ac- 
tively engaged  in  the  unpacking.  Miss  Mallory  herself  un- 
locked the  trunk  in  which  the  despatch-box  had  arrived, 
and  took  it  out.  The  box  had  an  old  green  baize  cover- 
ing which  was  much  frayed  and  worn.  Diana  placed  it 
on  the  floor  of  her  bedroom,  where  Mrs.  Colwood  had 
been  helping  her  in  various  unpackings,  and  went  away 
for  a  minute  to  clear  a  space  for  it  in  the  locked  wall- 
cupboard  to  which  it  was  to  be  consigned.  Her  com- 
panion, left  alone,  happened  to  see  that  an  old  mended 
tear  in  the  green  baize  had  given  way  in  Diana's  handling 
of  the  box,  and  quite  involuntarily  her  eyes  caught  a 
brass  plate  on  the  morocco  lid,  which  bore  the  words, 
"Sparling  papers."  Diana  came  back  at  the  moment, 
and  perceived  the  uncovered  label.  She  flushed  a  little, 
hesitated,  and  then  said,  looking  first  at  the  label  and 
then  at  Mrs.  Colwood :  "  I  think  I  should  like  you  to 
know — my  name  was  not  always  Mallory.  We  were 
Sparlings — but  my  father  took  the  name  of  Mallory 
after  my  mother's  death.  It  was  his  mother's  name, 
and  there  was  an  old  Mallory  uncle  who  left  him  a  prop- 
erty. I  believe  he  was  glad  to  change  his  name.  He 
never  spoke  to  me  of  any  Sparling  relations.  He  was 
an  only  child,  and  I  always  suppose  his  father  must  have 
been  very  unkind  to  him — and  that  they  quarrelled. 
At  any  rate,  he  quite  dropped  the  name,  and  never 
would  let  me  speak  of  it.  My  mother  had  hardly  any 
relations  either — only  one  sister  who  married  and  went 

ax 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallorij 

to  Barbadoes.  So  our  old  name  was  very  soon  forgotten. 
And  please" — she  looked  up  appealingly — "now  that 
I  have  told  you,  will  you  forget  it  too  ?  It  always  seem- 
ed to  hurt  papa  to  hear  it,  and  I  never  could  bear  to  do 
— or  say — anything  that  gave  him  pain." 

She  spoke  with  a  sweet  seriousness.  Mrs.  Colwood, 
who  had  been  conscious  of  a  slight  shock  of  puzzled 
recollection,  gave  an  answer  which  evidently  pleased 
Diana,  for  the  girl  held  out  her  hand  and  pressed  that  of 
her  companion;  then  they  carried  the  box  to  its  place, 
and  were  leaving  the  room,  when  suddenly  Diana,  with 
a  joyous  exclamation,  pounced  on  a  book  which  was  lying 
on  the  floor,  tumbled  among  a  dozen  others  recently 
unpacked. 

"Mr.  Marsham's  Rossetti!  I  am  glad,  Now  I  can 
face  him!" 

She  looked  up  all  smiles. 

"  Do  you  know  that  I  am  going  to  take  you  to  a  party 
next  week? — to  the  Marshams?  They  live  near  here — 
at  Tallyn  Hall.  They  have  asked  us  for  two  nights — 
Thursday  to  Saturday.  I  hope  you  won't  mind." 

"Have  I  got  a  dress?"  said  Mrs.  Colwood,  anxiously. 

"Oh,  that  doesn't  matter! — not  at  the  Marshams.  I 
am  glad!"  repeated  Diana,  fondling  the  book — "  If  I  really 
had  lost  it,  it  would  have  given  him  a  horrid  advantage !" 

"Who  is  Mr.  Marsham?" 

"  A  gentleman  we  got  to  know  at  Rapallo,"  said  Diana, 
still  smiling  to  herself.  "  He  and  his  mother  were  there 
last  winter.  Father  and  I  quarrelled  with  him  all  day 
long.  He  is  the  worst  Radical  I  ever  met,  but — " 

"But?— but  agreeable?" 

"  Oh  yes,"  said  Diana,  uncertainly,  and  Mrs.  Colwood 
thought  she  colored — "oh  yes — agreeable!" 

22 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallorg 

"And  he  lives  near  here?" 

"  He  is  the  member  for  the  division.  Such  a  crew 
as  we  shall  meet  there!"  Diana  laughed  out.  "I  had 
better  warn  you.  But  they  have  been  very  kind.  They 
called  directly  they  knew  I  had  taken  the  house.  'They' 
means  Mr.  Oliver  Marsham  and  his  mother.  I  am  glad 
I've  found  his  book!"  She  went  off  embracing  it. 

Mrs.  Colwood  was  left  with  two  impressions — one  sharp, 
the  other  vague.  One  was  that  Mr.  Oliver  Marsham 
might  easily  become  a  personage  in  the  story  of  which 
she  had  just,  as  it  were,  turned  the  first  leaf.  The  other 
was  connected  with  the  name  on  the  despatch-box. 
Why  did  it  haunt  her  ?  It  had  produced  a  kind  of  indis- 
tinguishable echo  in  the  brain,  to  which  she  could  put  no 
words — which  was  none  the  less  dreary;  like  a  voice  of 
wailing  from  a  far-off  past. 


CHAPTER  II 

DURING  the  days  immediately  following  her  arrival 
at  Beechcote,  Mrs.  Colwood  applied  herself  to  a 
study  of  Miss  Mallory  and  her  surroundings — none  the 
less  penetrating  because  the  student  was  modest  and  her 
method  unperceived.  She  divined  a  nature  unworldly, 
impulsive,  steeped,  moreover,  for  all  its  spiritual  and 
intellectual  force,  which  was  considerable,  in  a  kind  of 
sensuous  romance — much  connected  with  concrete  things 
and  symbols,  places,  persons,  emblems,  or  relics,  any 
contact  with  which  might  at  any  time  bring  the  color  to 
the  girl's  cheeks  and  the  tears  to  her  eyes.  Honor — 
personal  or  national — the  word  was  to  Diana  like  a  spark 
to  dry  leaves.  Her  whole  nature  flamed  to  it,  and  there 
were  moments  when  she  walked  visibly  transfigured  in 
the  glow  of  it.  Her  mind  was  rich,  moreover,  in  the 
delicate,  inchoate  lovers,  the  half-poetic,  half-intellectual 
passions,  the  mystical  yearnings  and  aspirations,  which 
haunt  a  pure  expanding  youth.  Such  human  beings, 
Mrs.  Colwood  reflected,  are  not  generally  made  for  hap- 
piness. But  there  were  also  in  Diana  signs  both  of 
practical  ability  and  of  a  rare  common-sense.  Would 
this  last  avail  to  protect  her  from  her  enthusiasms? 
Mrs.  Colwood  remembered  a  famous  Frenchwoman  of 
whom  it  was  said:  "Her  judgment  is  infallible — her 
conduct  one  long  mistake!"  The  little  companion  was 
already  sufficiently  attached  to  Miss  Mallory  to  hope 

24 


The   Testing    of*   Diana    Mallory 

that  in  this  case  a  natural  tact  and  balance  might  not  be 
thrown  away. 

As  to  suitors  and  falling  in  love,  the  natural  accom- 
paniments of  such  a  charming  youth,  Mrs.  Colwood  came 
across  no  traces  of  anything  of  the  sort.  During  her 
journey  with  her  father  to  India,  Japan,  and  America, 
Miss  Mallory  had  indeed  for  the  first  time  seen  some- 
thing of  society.  But  in  the  villa  beside  the  Mediter- 
ranean it  was  evident  that  her  life  with  her  father  had 
been  one  of  complete  seclusion.  She  and  he  had  lived 
for  each  other.  Books,  sketching,  long  walks,  a  friendly 
interest  in  their  peasant  neighbors — these  had  filled 
their  time. 

It  took,  indeed,  but  a  short  time  to  discover  in  Miss 
Mallory  a  hunger  for  society  which  seemed  to  be  the 
natural  result  of  long  starvation.  With  her  neighbors 
the  Roughsedges  she  was  already  on  the  friendliest  terms. 
To  Dr.  Roughsedge,  who  was  infirm,  and  often  a  prisoner 
to  his  library,  she  paid  many  small  attentions  which  soon 
won  the  heart  of  an  old  student.  She  was  in  love  with 
Mrs.  Roughsedge's  gray  curls  and  motherly  ways;  and 
would  consult  her  about  servants  and  tradesmen  with  an 
eager  humility.  She  liked  the  son,  it  seemed,  for  the 
parents'  sake,  nor  was  it  long  before  he  was  allowed — at 
his  own  pressing  request — to  help  in  hanging  pictures 
and  arranging  books  at  Beechcote.  A  girl's  manner 
with  young  men  is  always  a  matter  of  interest  to  older 
women.  Mrs.  Colwood  thought  that  Diana's  manner  to 
the  young  soldier  could  not  have  been  easily  bettered. 
It  was  frank  and  gay — with  just  that  tinge  of  old- 
fashioned  reserve  which  might  be  thought  natural  in  a 
girl  of  gentle  breeding,  brought  up  alone  by  a  fastidious 
father.  With  all  her  impetuosity,  indeed,  there  was 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

about  her  something  markedly  virginal  and  remote, 
which  is  commoner,  perhaps,  in  Irish  than  English 
women.  Mrs.  Colwood  watched  the  effect  of  it  on 
Captain  Roughsedge.  After  her  third  day  of  acquaint- 
ance with  him,  she  said  to  herself:  "  He  will  fall  in  love 
with  her!"  But  she  said  it  with  compassion,  and  with- 
out troubling  to  speculate  on  the  lady.  Whereas,  with 
regard  to  the  Marsham  visit,  she  already  —  she  could 
hardly  have  told  why — found  herself  full  of  curiosity. 

Meanwhile,  in  the  few  days  which  elapsed  before  that 
visit  was  due,  Diana  was  much  called  on  by  the  country- 
side. The  girl  restrained  her  restlessness,  and  sat  at 
home,  receiving  everybody  with  a  friendliness  which 
might  have  been  insipid  but  for  its  grace  and  spontane- 
ity. She  disliked  no  one,  .was  bored  by  no  one.  The 
joy  of  her  home-coming  seemed  to  halo  them  all.  Even 
the  sour  Miss  Bertrams  could  not  annoy  her;  she  thought 
them  sensible  and  clever ;  even  the  tiresome  Mrs.  Minchin 
of  Minchin  Hall,  the  "gusher"  of  the  county,  who 
"adored"  all  mankind  and  ill-treated  her  step-daughter, 
even  she  was  dubbed  "very  kind,"  till  Mrs.  Roughsedge, 
next  day,  kindled  a  passion  in  the  girl's  eyes  by  some 
tales  of  the  step-daughter.  Mrs.  Colwood  wondered 
whether,  indeed,  she  could  be  bored,  as  Mrs.  Minchin 
had  not  achieved  it.  Those  who  talk  easily  and  well,  like 
Diana,  are  less  keenly  aware,  she  thought,  of  the  plati- 
tudes of  their  neighbors.  They  are  not  defenceless,  like 
the  shy  and  the  silent. 

Nevertheless,  it  was  clear  that  if  Diana  welcomed  the 
neighbors  with  pleasure  she  often  saw  them  go  with 
relief.  As  soon  as  the  house  was  clear  of  them,  she  would 
stand  pensively  by  the  fire,  looking  down  into  the  blaze 
like  one  on  whom  a  dream  suddenly  descends — then 

26 


The  Testing    of  Diana    Mallort^ 

would  often  call  her  dog,  and  go  out  alone,  into  the  winter 
twilight.  From  these  rambles  she  would  return  grave — 
sometimes  with  reddened  eyes.  But  at  all  times,  as  Mrs. 
Col  wood  soon  began  to  realize,  there  was  but  a  thin  line 
of  division  between  her  gayety  and  some  inexplicable 
sadness,  some  unspoken  grief,  which  seemed  to  rise  upon 
her  and  overshadow  her,  like  a  cloud  tangled  in  the 
woods  of  spring.  Mrs.  Colwood  could  only  suppose  that 
these  times  of  silence  and  eclipse  were  connected  in  some 
way  with  her  father  and  her  loss  of  him.  But  whenever 
they  occurred,  Mrs.  Colwood  found  her  own  mind  in- 
vincibly recalled  to  that  name  on  the  box  of  papers, 
which  still  haunted  her,  still  brought  with  it  a  vague 
sense  of  something  painful  and  harrowing — a  breath  of 
desolation,  in  strange  harmony,  it  often  seemed,  with 
certain  looks  and  moods  of  Diana.  But  Mrs.  Colwood 
searched  her  memory  in  vain.  And,  indeed,  after  a  lit- 
tle while,  some  imperious  instinct  even  forbade  her  the 
search — so  rapid  and  strong  was  the  growth  of  sympathy 
with  the  young  life  which  had  called  her  to  its  aid. 

The  day  of  the  Marsham  visit  arrived — a  January 
afternoon  clear  and  frosty.  In  the  morning  before  they 
were  to  start,  Diana  seemed  to  be  often  closeted  with  her 
maid,  and  once  in  passing  Miss  Mallory's  open  door,  her 
companion  could  not  help  seeing  a  consultation  going  on, 
and  a  snowy  white  dress,  with  black  ribbons,  lying  on  the 
bed.  Heretofore  Diana  had  only  appeared  in  black,  the 
strict  black  which  French  dressmakers  understand,  for  it 
was  little  more  than  a  year  since  her  father's  death.  The 
thought  of  seeing  her  in  white  stirred  Mrs.  Col  wood's 
expectations. 

Tallyn  Hall  was  eight  miles^  fro,m  Beechcote.  The 

27 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallorij 

ladies  were  to  drive,  but  in  order  to  show  Mrs.  Colwood 
something  of  the  country,  Diana  decreed  that  they  should 
walk  up  to  the  downs  by  a  field  path,  meeting  the  carriage 
which  bore  their  luggage  at  a  convenient  point  on  the 
main  road. 

The  day  was  a  day  of  beauty — the  trees  and  grass 
lightly  rimed,  the  air  sparkling  and  translucent.  Nature 
was  held  in  the  rest  of  winter ;  but  beneath  the  outward 
stillness,  one  caught  as  it  were  the  strong  heart-beat 
of  the  mighty  mother.  Diana  climbed  the  steep  down 
without  a  pause,  save  when  she  turned  round  from 
time  to  time  to  help  her  companion.  Her  slight  firm 
frame,  the  graceful  decision  of  her  movements,  the  ab- 
sence of  all  stress  and  effort  showed  a  creature  accus- 
tomed to  exercise  and  open  air;  Mrs.  Colwood,  the  frail 
Anglo-Indian  to  whom  walking  was  a  task,  tried  to  rival 
her  in  vain;  and  Diana  was  soon  full  of  apologies  and 
remorse  for  having  tempted  her  to  the  climb. 

"Please! — please!" — the  little  lady  panted,  as  they 
reached  the  top — "wasn't  this  worth  it?" 

For  they  stood  in  one  of  the  famous  wood  and  com- 
mon lands  of  Southern  England — great  beeches  tower- 
ing overhead — glades  opening  to  right  and  left — ferny 
paths  over  green  turf-tracks,  and  avenues  of  imme- 
morial age,  the  highways  of  a  vanished  life — old  earth- 
works, overgrown — lanes  deep-sunk  in  the  chalk  where 
the  pack-horses  once  made  their  way — gnarled  thorns, 
bent  with  years,  yet  still  white-mantled  in  the  spring:  a 
wild,  enchanted  no-man's  country,  owned  it  seemed  by 
rabbits  and  birds,  solitary,  lovely,  and  barren — yet  from 
its  furthest  edge,  the  high  spectator,  looking  eastward, 
on  a  clear  night,  might  see  on  the  horizon  the  dim  flare 
of  London. 

28 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Maliory 

Diana's  habitual  joy  broke  out,  as  she  stood  gazing 
at  the  village  below,  the  walls  and  woods  of  Beech- 
cote,  the  church,  the  plough-lands,  and  the  far- western 
plain,  drawn  in  pale  grays  and  purples  under  the  de- 
clining sun. 

"  Isn't  it  heavenly !  —  the  browns  —  the  blues  —  the 
soberness,  the  delicacy  of  it  all?  Oh,  so  much  better 
than  any  tiresome  Mediterranean — any  stupid  Riviera! 
— Ah!"  She  stopped  and  turned,  checked  by  a  sound 
behind  her. 

Captain  Roughsedge  appeared,  carrying  his  gun,  his 
spaniel  beside  him.  He  greeted  the  ladies  with  what 
seemed  to  Mrs.  Colwood  a  very  evident  start  of  pleasure, 
and  turned  to  walk  with  them. 

"You  have  been  shooting?"  said  Diana. 

He  admitted  it. 

"That's  what  you  enjoy?" 

He  flushed. 

"More  than  anything  in  the  world." 

But  he  looked  at  his  questioner  a  little  askance,  as 
though  uncertain  how  she  might  take  so  gross  a  con- 
fession. 

Diana  laughed,  and  hoped  he  got  as  much  as  he 
desired.  Then  he  was  not  like  his  father — who  cared  so 
much  for  books  ? 

"Oh,  books!"  He  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "Well, 
the  fact  is,  I — I  don't  often  read  if  I  can  help  it.  But  of 
course  they  make  you  do  a  lot  of  it — with  these  beastly 
examinations.  They've  about  spoiled  the  army  with 
them." 

"  You  wouldn't  do  it  for  pleasure  ?" 

"What — reading?"  He  shook  his  head  decidedly. 
"  Not  while  I  could  be  doing  anything  else." 

29 


The   Testing    of  Diana    Mallory 

"Not  history  or  poetry?" 

He  looked  at  her  again  nervously.  But  the  girl's  face 
was  gay,  and  he  ventured  on  the  truth. 

"Well,  no,  I  can't  say  I  do.  My  father  reads  a  deal 
of  poetry  aloud." 

"And  it  bores  you?" 

"Well,  I  don't  understand  it,"  he  said,  slowly  and 
candidly. 

"Don't  you  even  read  the  papers?"  asked  Diana, 
wondering. 

He  started. 

"Why,  I  should  think  I  do!"  he  cried.  "I  should 
rather  think  I  do!  That's  another  thing  altogether— 
that's  not  books." 

"Then  perhaps  you  read  the  debate  last  night?"  She 
looked  at  him  with  a  kindling  eye. 

"Of  course  I  did — every  word  of  it!  Do  you  know 
what  those  Radical  fellows  are  up  to  now?  They'll 
never  rest  until  we've  lost  the  Khaibar — and  then  the 
Lord  only  knows  what  '11  happen." 

Diana  flew  into  discussion — quick  breath,  red  cheeks! 
Mrs.  Colwood  looked  on  amazed. 

Presently  both  appealed  to  her,  the  Anglo-Indian. 
But  she  smiled  and  stammered — declining  the  challenge. 
Beside  their  eagerness,  their  passion,  she  felt  herself 
tongue-tied.  Captain  Roughsedge  had  seen  two  years' 
service  on  the  Northwest  Frontier;  Diana  had  ridden 
through  the  Khaibar  with  her  father  and  a  Lieutenant- 
Go  vernor.  In  both  the  sense  of  England's  historic  task 
as  the  guardian  of  a  teeming  India  against  onslaught 
from  the  north,  had  sunk  deep,  not  into  brain  merely. 
Figures  of  living  men,  acts  of  heroism  and  endurance,  the 
thought  of  English  soldiers  ambushed  in  mountain  de- 

30 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

files,  or  holding  out  against  Afridi  hordes  in  lonely  forts, 
dying  and  battling,  not  for  themselves,  but  that  the 
great  mountain  barrier  might  hold  against  the  savagery 
of  the  north,  and  English  honor  and  English  power 
maintain  themselves  unscathed  —  these  had  mingled, 
in  both,  with  the  chivalry  and  the  red  blood  of  youth. 
The  eyes  of  both  had  seen;  the  hearts  of  both  had 
felt. 

And  now,  in  the  English  House  of  Commons,  there 
were  men  who  doubted  and  sneered  about  these  things — 
who  held  an  Afridi  life  dearer  than  an  English  one — who 
cared  nothing  for  the  historic  task,  who  would  let  India 
go  to-morrow  without  a  pang! 

Misguided  recreants!  But  Mrs.  Colwood,  looking  on, 
could  only  feel  that  had  they  never  played  their  impish 
part,  the  winter  afternoon  for  these  two  companions  of 
hers  would  have  been  infinitely  less  agreeable. 

For  certainly  denunication  and  argument  became 
Diana-^-all  the  more  that  she  was  no  "female  franzy" 
who  must  have  all  the  best  of  the  talk ;  she  listened — she 
evoked — she  drew  on,  and  drew  out.  Mrs.  Colwood  was 
secretly  sure  that  this  very  modest  and  ordinarily  stupid 
young  man  had  never  talked  so  well  before,  that  his 
mother  would  have  been  astonished  could  she  have  be- 
held him.  What  had  come  to  the  young  women  of  this 
generation!  Their  grandmothers  cared  for  politics  only 
so  far  as  they  advanced  the  fortunes  of  their  lords — other- 
wise what  was  Hecuba  to  them,  or  they  to  Hecuba? 
But  these  women  have  minds  for  the  impersonal.  Diana 
was  not  talking  to  make  an  effect  on  Captain  Roughsedge 
—that  was  the  strange  part  of  it.  Hundreds  of  women 
can  make  politics  serve  the  primitive  woman's  game; 
the  "  come  hither  in  the  ee  "  can  use  that  weapon  as  well 

31 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

as  any  other.     But  here  was  an  intellectual,  a  patriotic 
passion,  veritable,  genuine,  not  feigned. 

Well !  —  the  spectator  admitted  it  —  unwillingly  —  so 
long  as  the  debater,  the  orator,  were  still  desirable,  still 
lovely.  She  stole  a  glance  at  Captain  Roughsedge.  Was 
he,  too,  so  unconscious  of  sex,  of  opportunity  ?  Ah !  that 
she  doubted!  The  young  man  plaj^ed  his  part  stoutly; 
flung  back  the  ball  without  a  break;  but  there  were 
glances,  and  movements  and  expressions,  which  to  this 
shrewd  feminine  eye  appeared  to  betray  what  no  scrutiny 
could  detect  in  Diana — a  pleasure  within  a  pleasure,  and 
thoughts  behind  thoughts.  At  any  rate,  he  prolonged  the 
walk  as  long  as  it  could  be  prolonged;  he  accompanied 
them  to  the  very  door  of  their  carriage,  and  would  have 
delayed  them  there  but  that  Diana  looked  at  her  watch 
in  dismay. 

"You'll  hear  plenty  of  that  sort  of  stuff  to-night!" 
he  said,  as  he  helped  them  to  their  wraps.  " '  Perish 
India!'  and  all  the  rest  of  it.  All  they'll  mind  at  Tallyn 
will  be  that  the  Afridis  haven't  killed  a  few  more  Brit- 
ishers." 

Diana  gave  him  a  rather  grave  smile  and  bow  as  the 
carriage  drove  on.  Mrs.  Colwood  wondered  whether  the 
Captain's  last  remark  had  somehow  offended  her  com- 
panion. But  Miss  Mallory  made  no  reference  to  it. 
Instead,  she  began  to  give  her  companion  some  pre- 
liminary information  as  to  the  party  they  were  likely  to 
find  at  Tallyn. 

(As  Mrs.  Colwood  already  knew,  Mr.  Oliver  Marsham, 
member  for  the  Western  division  of  Brookshire,  was 
young  and  unmarried.  He  lived  with  his  mother,  Lady 
Lucy  Marsham,  the  owner  of  Tallyn  Hall;  and  his 
widowed  sister,  Mrs.  Fotheringham,  was  also  a  constant 

32 


The  Testing    of!   Diana    Mallory 

inmate  of  the  house.  Mrs.  Fotheringham  was  if  possible 
more  extreme  in  opinions  than  her  brother,  frequented 
platforms,  had  quarrelled  with  all  her  Conservative  re- 
lations, including  a  family  of  stepsons,  and  supported 
Women's  Suffrage.  It  was  evident  that  Diana  was  steel- 
ing herself  to  some  endurance  in  this  quarter.  As  to  the 
other  guests  whom  they  might  expect,  Diana  knew  little. 
She  had  heard  that  Mr.  Ferrier  was  to  be  there — ex-  V- 
Home  Secretary,  and  now  leader  of  the  Opposition — and 
old  Lady  Niton.  Diana  retailed  what  gossip  she  knew 
of  this  rather  famous  personage,  whom  three-fourths  of 
the  world  found  insolent  and  the  rest  witty.  "They 
say,  anyway,  that  she  can  snub  Mrs.  Fotheringham," 
said  Diana,  laughing. 

"You  met  them  abroad?" 

"Only  Mr.  Marsham  and  Lady  Lucy.  Papa  and  I 
were  walking  over  the  hills  at  Portofmo.  We  fell  in  with 
him,  and  he  asked  us  the  way  to  San  Fruttuoso.  We 
were  going  there,  so  we  showed  him.  Papa  liked  him, 
and  he  came  to  see  us  afterwards — several  times.  Lady 
Lucy  came  once." 

"She  is  nice?" 

"Oh  yes,"  said  Diana,  vaguely,  "she  is  quite  beautiful 
for  her  age.  You  never  saw  such  lovely  hands.  And  so 
fastidious — so  dainty!  I  remember  feeling  uncomfort- 
able all  the  time,  because  I  knew  I  had  a  tear  in  my 
dress,  and  my  hair  was  untidy — and  I  was  certain  she 
noticed." 

"  It's  all  rather  alarming,"  said  Mrs.  Colwood,  smiling. 

"  No,  no !" — Diana  turned  upon  her  eagerly.  "  They're 
very  kind — very,  very  kind!" 

The  winter  day  was  nearly  gone  when  they  reached 

33 


The    Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

their  destination.  But  there  was  just  light  enough,  as 
they  stepped  out  of  the  carriage,  to  show  a  large  mod- 
ern building,  built  of  red  brick,  with  many  gables  and 
bow-windows,  and  a  generally  restless  effect.  As  they 
followed  the  butler  through  the  outer  hall,  a  babel  of 
voices  made  itself  heard,  and  when  he  threw  open  the 
door  into  the  inner  hall,  they  found  themselves  ushered 
into  a  large  party. 

There  was  a  pleased  exclamation  from  a  tall  fair  man 
standing  near  the  fire,  who  came  forward  at  once  to  meet 
them. 

"So  glad  to  see  you!  But  we  hoped  for  you  earlier! 
Mother,  here  is  Miss  Mallory." 

Lady  Lucy,  a  woman  of  sixty,  still  slender  and  stately, 
greeted  them  kindly,  Mrs.  Colwood  was  introduced,  and 
room  was  made  for  the  new-comers  in  the  circle  round 
the  tea-table,  which  was  presided  over  by  a  lady  with 
red  hair  and  an  eye-glass,  who  gave  a  hand  to  Diana, 
and  a  bow,  or  more  precisely  a  nod,  to  Mrs.  Colwood. 

'*  I'm  Oliver's  sister — my  name's  Fotheringham.  That's 
my  cousin — Madeleine  Varley.  Madeleine,  find  me  some 
cups!  This  is  Mr.  Ferrier — Mr.  Ferrier,  Miss  Mallory.— 
I  expect  you  know  Lady  Niton. — Sir  James  Chide,  Miss 
Mallory. — Perhaps  that  '11  do  to  begin  with!"  said  Mrs. 
Fotheringham,  carelessly,  glancing  at  a  further  group  of 
people.  "Now  I'll  give  you  some  tea." 

Diana  sat  down,  very  shy,  and  a  little  flushed.  Mr. 
Marsham  hovered  about  her,  inducing  her  to  loosen  her 
furs,  bringing  her  tea,  and  asking  questions  about  her 
settlement  at  Beechcote.  He  showed  also  a  marked 
courtesy  to  Mrs.  Colwood,  and  the  little  widow,  suscept- 
ible to  every  breath  of  kindness,  formed  the  prompt 
opinion  that  he  was  both  handsome  and  agreeable. 

34 


The  Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

Oliver  Mar  sham,  indeed,  was  not  a  person  to  be  over- 
looked. His  height  was  about  six  foot  three;  and  his 
long  slender  limbs  and  spare  frame  had  earned  him,  as 
a  lad,  among  the  men  of  his  father's  works,  the  descrip- 
tion of  "  two  yards  o'  pump-waater,  straight  oop  an' 
down."  But  in  his  thin  lengthiness  there  was  nothing 
awkward — rather  a  graceful  readiness  and  vigor.  And 
the  head  which  surmounted  this  lightly  built  body  gave 
to  the  whole  personality  the  force  and  weight  it  might 
otherwise  have  missed.  The  hair  was  very  thick  and 
very  fair,  though  already  slightly  grizzled.  It  lay  in 
heavy  curly  masses  across  a  broad  head,  defining  a 
strong  brow  above  deeply  set  small  eyes  of  a  pale  con- 
spicuous blue.  The  nose,  aquiline  and  large;  the  mouth 
large  also,  but  thin-lipped  and  flexible;  slight  hollows 
in  the  cheeks,  and  a  long,  lantern  jaw.  The  whole 
figure  made  an  impression  of  ease,  power,  and  self-con- 
fidenceij 

"So  you  like  your  old  house?"  he  said,  presently,  to 
Diana,  sitting  down  beside  her,  and  dropping  his  voice  a 
little. 

"  It  suits  me  perfectly." 

"I  am  certain  the  moat  is  rheumatic!  But  you  will 
never  admit  it." 

"I  would,  if  it  were  true,"  she  said,  smiling. 

"  No ! — you  are  much  too  romantic.  You  see,  I  re- 
member our  conversations." 

"Did  I  never  admit  the  truth?" 

"  You  would  never  admit  it  was  the  truth.  And  my 
difficulty  was  to  find  an  arbiter  between  us." 

Diana's  face  changed  a  little.  He  perceived  it  in- 
stantly. 

•'Your  father  was  sometimes  arbiter,"  he  said,  in  a 

35 


The   Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

still  lower  tone — "but  naturally  he  took  your  side.  I 
shall  always  rejoice  I  had  that  chance  of  meeting  him." 

Diana  said  nothing,  but  her  dark  eyes  turned  on  him 
with  a  soft  friendly  look.  His  own  smiled  in  response, 
and  he  resumed: 

"  I  suppose  you  don't  know  many  of  these  people 
here?" 

"Not  any." 

"  I'm  sure  you'll  like  Mr.  Ferrier.  He  is  our  very  old 
friend — almost  my  guardian.  Of  course — on  politics — 
you  won't  agree!" 

"  I  didn't  expect  to  agree  with  anybody  here,"  said 
Diana,  slyly. 

He  laughed. 

"  I  might  offer  you  Lady  Niton — but  I  refrain.  To- 
morrow I  have  reason  to  believe  that  two  Tories  are 
coming  to  dinner." 

"Which  am  I  to  admire? — your  liberality,  or  their 
courage?" 

"  I  have  matched  them  by  two  socialists.  Which  will 
you  sit  next?" 

"Oh,  I  am  proof!"  said  Diana.  "'Come  one,  come 
all.'" 

He  looked  at  her  smilingly. 

"  Is  it  always  the  same  ?  Are  you  still  in  love  with  all 
the  dear  old  abuses?" 

"And  do  you  still  hate  everything  that  wasn't  made 
last  week?" 

"Oh  no!  We  only  hate  what  cheats  or  oppresses 
the  people." 

"The  people?"  echoed  Diana,  with  an  involuntary 
lift  of  the  eyebrows,  and  she  looked  round  the  immense 
hall,  with  its  costly  furniture,  its  glaring  electric  lights, 

36 


The  Testing    of   Diana   Mallory 

and  the  band  of  bad  fresco  which  ran  round  its  lower 
walls. 

Oliver  Marsham  reddened  a  little;  then  said: 

"I  see  my  cousin  Miss  Drake.  May  I  introduce  her? 
—Alicia!" 

A  young  lady  had  entered,  from  a  curtained  archway 
dividing  the  hall  from  a  passage  beyond.  She  paused 
a  moment  examining  the  company.  The  dark  curtain 
behind  her  made  an  effective  background  for  the  brill- 
iance of  her  hair,  dress,  and  complexion,  of  which  fact — 
such  at  least  was  Diana's  instant  impression — she  was 
most  composedly  aware.  At  least  she  lingered  a  few 
leisurely  seconds,  till  everybody  in  the  hall  had  had  the 
opportunity  of  marking  her  entrance.  Then  beckoned  by 
Oliver  Marsham,  she  moved  toward  Diana. 

"  How  do  you  do  ?  I  suppose  you've  had  a  long  drive  ? 
Don't  you  hate  driving?" 

And  without  waiting  for  an  answer,  she  turned  af- 
fectedly away,  and  took  a  place  at  the  tea-table  where 
room  had  been  made  for  her  by  two  young  men.  Reach- 
ing out  a  white  hand,  she  chose  a  cake,  and  began  to 
nibble  it  slowly,  her  elbows  resting  on  the  table,  the 
ruffles  of  white  lace  falling  back  from  her  bare  and 
rounded  arms.  Her  look  meanwhile,  half  absent,  half 
audacious,  seemed  to  wander  round  the  persons  near,  as 
though  she  saw  them,  without  taking  any  real  account  of 
them. 

"What  have  you  been  doing,  Alicia,  all  this  time?" 
said  Marsham,  as  he  handed  her  a  cup  of  tea. 

"  Dressing." 

An  incredulous  shout  from  the  table. 

"Since  lunch!" 

Miss  Drake  nodded.  Lady  Lucy  put  in  an  explana- 

37 


The   Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

tory  remark  about  a  "dressmaker  from  town,"  but  was 
not  heard.  The  table  was  engaged  in  watching  the  new- 
comer. 

"May  we  congratulate  you  on  the  result?"  said  Mr. 
Ferrier,  putting  up  his  eye-glass. 

"  If  you  like,"  said  Miss  Drake,  indifferently,  still 
gently  munching  at  her  cake.  Then  suddenly  she  smiled 
— a  glittering  infectious  smile,  to  which  unconsciously 
all  the  faces  near  her  responded.  "  I  have  been  read- 
ing the  book  you  lent  me!"  she  said,  addressing  Mr. 
Ferrier. 

"Well?" 

"  I'm  too  stupid — I  can't  understand  it." 

Mr.  Ferrier  laughed. 

"  I'm  afraid  that  excuse  won't  do,  Miss  Alicia.  You 
must  find  another." 

She  was  silent  a  moment,  finished  her  cake,  then  took 
some  grapes,  and  began  to  play  with  them  in  the  same 
conscious  provocative  way — till  at  last  she  turned  upon 
her  immediate  neighbor,  a  young  barrister  with  a  broad 
boyish  face. 

"Well,  I  wonder  whether  you'd  mind?" 

"Mind  what?" 

"  If  your  father  had  done  something  shocking — forged 
— or  murdered — or  done  something  of  that  kind — suppos- 
ing, of  course,  he  were  dead." 

"Do  you  mean — if  I  suddenly  found  out?" 

She  nodded  assent. 

"Well!"  he  reflected;  "it  would  be  disagreeable!" 

"  Yes — but  would  it  make  you  give  up  all  the  things 
you  like? — golfing — and  cards — and  parties — and  the 
girl  you  were  engaged  to — and  take  to  slumming,  and 
that  kind  of  thing?" 

38 


The    Testing    of    Diana   Mallory 

The  slight  inflection  of  the  last  words  drew  smiles. 
Mr.  Ferrier  held  up  a  finger. 

"Miss  Alicia,  I  shall  lend  you  no  more  books." 

"Why?     Because  I  can't  appreciate  them?" 

Mr.  Ferrier  laughed. 

"  I  maintain  that  book  is  a  book  to  melt  the  heart  of  a 
stone." 

"  Well,  I  tried  to  cry,"  said  the  girl,  putting  another 
grape  into  her  mouth,  and  quietly  nodding  at  her  in- 
terlocutor— "  I  did — honor  bright.  But — really — what 
does  it  matter  what  your  father  did?" 

"My  dear!"  said  Lady  Lucy,  softly.  Her  singularly 
white  and  finely  wrinkled  face,  framed  in  a  delicate 
capote  of  old  lace,  looked  coldly  at  the  speaker. 

"  By- the- way,"  said  Mr.  Ferrier,  "  does  not  the  ques- 
tion rather  concern  you  in  this  neighborhood?  I  hear 
young  Brenner  has  just  come  to  live  at  West  Hill.  I 
don't  now  what  sort  of  a  youth  he  is,  but  if  he's  a  decent 
fellow,  I  don't  imagine  anybody  will  boycott  him  on 
account  of  his  father's  misdoings." 

He  referred  to  one  of  the  worst  financial  scandals  of 
the  preceding  generation.  Lady  Lucy  made  no  answer, 
but  any  one  closely  observing  her  might  have  noticed  a 
sudden  and  sharp  stiffening  of  the  lips,  which  was  in 
truth  her  reply. 

"Oh,  you  can  always  ask  a  man  like  that  to  garden- 
parties!"  said  a  shrill,  distant  voice.  The  group  round 
the  table  turned.  The  remark  was  made  by  old  Lady 
Niton,  who  sat  enthroned  in  an  arm-chair  near  the  fire, 
sometimes  knitting,  and  sometimes  observing  her  neigh- 
bors with  a  malicious  eye. 

"  Anything's  good  enough,  isn't  it,  for  garden-parties  ?" 
said  Mrs.  Fotheringham,  with  a  little  sneer. 

39 


The  Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

Lady  Niton's  face  kindled.  "  Let  us  be  Radicals,  my 
dear,"  she  said,  briskly,  "but  not  hypocrites.  Garden- 
parties  are  invaluable — for  people  you  can't  ask  into  the 
house.  By-the-way,  wasn't  it  you,  Oliver,  who  scolded 
me  last  night,  because  I  said  somebody  wasn't  'in 
Society'?" 

"  You  said  it  of  a  particular  hero  of  mine,"  laughed 
Marsham.  "I  naturally  pitied  Society." 

"What  is  Society?  Where  is  it?"  said  Sir  James 
Chide,  contemptuously.  "I  suppose  Lady  Palmerston 
knew." 

The  famous  lawyer  sat  a  little  apart  from  the  rest. 
Diana,  who  had  only  caught  his  name,  and  knew  nothing 
else  of  him,  looked  with  sudden  interest  at  the  man's 
great  brow  and  haughty  look.  Lady  Niton  shook  her 
head  emphatically. 

"We  know  quite  as  well  as  she  did.  Society  is  just 
as  strong  and  just  as  exclusive  as  it  ever  was.  But  it  is 
clever  enough  now  to  hide  the  fact  from  outsiders." 

"  I  am  afraid  we  must  agree  that  standards  have  been 
much  relaxed,"  said  Lady  Lucy. 

"Not  at  all— not  at  all!"  cried  Lady  Niton.  "There 
were  black  sheep  then;  and  there  are  black  sheep  now." 

Lady  Lucy  held  her  own. 

"  I  am  sure  that  people  take  less  care  in  their  invita- 
tions," she  said,  with  soft  obstinacy.  "I  have  often 
heard  my  mother  speak  of  society  in  her  young  days, 
— how  the  dear  Queen's  example  purified  it — and  how 
much  less  people  bowed  down  to  money  then  than  now." 

"Ah,  that  was  before  the  Americans  and  the  Jews," 
said  Sir  James  Chide. 

"  People  forget  their  responsibility,"  said  Lady  Lucy, 
turning  to  Diana,  and  speaking  so  as  not  to  be  heard  by 

40 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

the  whole  table.  "  In  old  days  it  was  birth;  but  now — 
now  when  we  are  all  democratic — it  should  be  character. 
— Don't  you  agree  with  me?" 

"Other  people's  character?"  asked  Diana. 

"Oh,  we  mustn't  be  unkind,  of  course.  But  when  a 
thing  is  notorious.  Take  this  young  Brenner.  His  father's 
frauds  ruined  hundreds  of  poor  people.  How  can  I 
receive  him  here,  as  if  nothing  had  happened  ?  It  ought 
not  to  be  forgotten.  He  himself  ought  to  wish  to  live 
quietly!" 

Diana  gave  a  hesitating  assent,  adding:  "But  I'm 
sorry  for  Mr.  Brenner!" 

Mr.  Ferrier,  as  she  spoke,  leaned  slightly  across  the 
tea-table  as  though  to  listen  to  what  she  said.  Lady 
Lucy  moved  away,  and  Mr.  Ferrier,  after  spending  a 
moment  of  quiet  scrutiny  on  the  young  mistress  of  Beech- 
cote,  came  to  sit  beside  her. 

Mrs.  Fotheringham  threw  herself  back  in  her  chair 
with  a  little  yawn.  "  Mamma  is  more  difficult  than  the 
Almighty!"  she  .said,  in  a  loud  aside  to  Sir  James  Chide. 
"  One  sin — or  even  somebody  else's  sin — and  you  are 
done  for." 

Sir  James,  who  was  a  Catholic,  and  scrupulous  in 
speech,  pursed  his  lips  slightly,  drummed  on  the  table 
with  his  fingers,  and  finally  rose  without  reply,  and 
betook  himself  to  the  Times.  Miss  Drake  meanwhile 
had  been  carried  off  to  play  billiards  at  the  farther  end 
of  the  hall  by  the  young  men  of  the  party.  It  might 
have  been  noticed  that,  before  she  went,  she  had  spent  a 
few  minutes  of  close  though  masked  observation  of  her 
cousin  Oliver's  new  friend.  Also,  that  she  tried  to  carry 
Oliver  Marsham  with  her,  but  unsuccessfully.  He  had 
returned  to  Diana's  neighborhood,  and  stood  leaning 
4  41 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

over  a.  chair  beside  her,  listening  to  her  conversation 
with  Mr.  Ferrier. 

His  sister,  Mrs.  Fotheringham,  was  not  content  to 
listen.  Diana's  impressions  of  the  country-side,  which 
presently  caught  her  ear,  evidently  roused  her  pugnacity. 
She  threw  herself  on  all  the  girl's  rose-colored  appre- 
ciations with  a  scorn  hardly  disguised.  All  the  "  locals, " 
according  to  her,  were  stupid  or  snobbish — bores,  in  fact, 
of  the  first  water.  And  to  Diana's  discomfort  and  amaze- 
ment, Oliver  Marsham  joined  in.  He  showed  himself 
possessed  of  a  sharper  and  more  caustic  tongue  than 
Diana  had  yet  suspected.  His  sister's  sallies  only  amused 
him,  and  sometimes  he  improved  on  them,  with  epithets 
or  comments,  shrewder  than  hers  indeed,  but  quite  as 
biting. 

"His  neighbors  and  constituents!"  thought  Diana,  in 
a  young  astonishment.  "The  people  who  send  him  to 
Parliament!" 

Mr.  Ferrier  seemed  to  become  aware  of  her  surprise 
and  disapproval,  for  he  once  or  twice  threw  in  a  satirical 
word  or  two,  at  the  expense,  not  of  the  criticised,  but 
of  the  critics.  The  well-known  Leader  of  the  Opposi- 
tion was  a  stout  man  of  middle  height,  with  a  round 
head  and  face,  at  first  sight  wholly  undistinguished, 
an  ample  figure,  and  smooth,  straight  hair.  But  there 
was  so  much  honesty  and  acuteness  in  the  eyes,  so  much 
humor  in  the  mouth,  and  so  much  kindness  in  the 
general  aspect,  that  Diana  felt  herself  at  once  attracted; 
and  when  the  master  of  the  house  was  summoned  by  his 
head  gamekeeper  to  give  directions  for  the  shooting- 
party  of  the  following  day,  and  Mrs.  Fotheringham  had 
gone  off  to  attend  what  seemed  to  be  a  vast  correspond- 
ence, the  politician  and  the  young  girl  fell  into  a  con- 

42 


The    Testing   of    Diaria    Mallorg 

versation  which  soon  became  agreeable  and  even  absorb- 
ing to  both.  Mrs.  Colwood,  sitting  on  the  other  side  of  the 
hall,  timidly  discussing  fancy  work  with  the  Miss  Varleys, 
Lady  Lucy's  young  nieces,  saw  that  Diana  was  making 
a  conquest;  and  it  seemed  to  her,  moreover,  that  Mr. 
Ferrier's  scrutiny  of  his  companion  was  somewhat  more 
attentive  and  more  close  than  was  quite  explained  by  the 
mere  casual  encounter  of  a  man  of  middle-age  with  a 
young  and  charming  girl.  Was  he — like  herself — aware 
that  matters  of  moment  might  be  here  at  their  be- 
ginningj) 

Meanwhile,  if  Mr.  Ferrier  was  making  discoveries,  so 
was  Diana.  A  man,  it  appeared,  could  be  not  only  one  of 
the  busiest  and  most  powerful  politicians  in  England,  but 
also  a  philosopher,  and  a  reader,  one  whose  secret  tastes 
were  as  unworldly  and  romantic  as  her  own.  Books, 
music,  art — he  could  handle  these  subjects  no  less  skil- 
fully than  others  political  or  personal.  And,  throughout, 
his  deference  to  a  young  and  pretty  woman  was  never  at 
fault.  Diana  was  encouraged  to  talk,  and  then,  without 
a  word  of  flattery,  given  to  understand  that  her  talk 
pleased.  Under  this  stimulus,  her  soft  dark  beauty  was 
soon  glowing  at  its  best;  innocence,  intelligence,  and 
youth,  spread  as  it  were  their  tendrils  to  the  sun. 

Meanwhile,  Sir  James  Chide,  a  few  yards  off,  was 
apparently  absorbed  partly  in  the  Times,  partly  in  the 
endeavor  to  make  Lady  Lucy's  fox  terrier  go  through  its 
tricks. 

VjDnce  Mr.  Ferrier  drew  Diana's  attention  to  her  neigh- 
bor. 

"You  know  him?" 

"  I  never  saw  him  before." 

"You  know  who  he  is?" 

43 


The   Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

"Ought  I? — I  am  so  sorry!" 

"  He  is  perhaps  the  greatest  criminal  advocate  we 
have.  And  a  very  distinguished  politician  too. — When- 
ever our  party  comes  in,  he  will  be  in  the  Cabinet. — You 
must  make  him  talk  this  evening." 

"  I?"  said  Diana,  laughing  and  blushing. 

"You  can!"  smiled  Mr.  Ferrier.  "Witness  how  you 
have  been  making  me  chatter!  But  I  think  I  read  you 
right  ?  You  do  not  mind  if  one  chatters  ? — if  one  gives 
you  information?" 

"Mind! — How  could  I  be  anything  but  grateful?  It 
puzzles  me  so — this — "  she  hesitated. 

"  This  English  life  ?  —  especially  the  political  life  ? 
Well! — let  me  be  your  guide.  I  have  been  in  it  for  a 
long  while." 

Diana  thanked  him,  and  rose. 

"  You  want  your  room  ?"  he  asked  her,  kindly. — "  Mrs. 
Fotheringham,  I  think,  is  in  the  drawing-room.  Let  me 
take  you  to  her.  But,  first,  look  at  two  or  three  of  these 
pictures  as  you  go." 

"These — pictures?"  faltered  Diana,  looking  round  her, 
her  tone  changing. 

"Oh,  not  those  horrible  frescos!  Those  were  per- 
petrated by  Marsham's  father.  They  represent,  as  you 
see,  the  different  processes  of  the  Iron  Trade.  Old  Henry 
Marsham  liked  them,  because,  as  he  said,  they  explained 
him,  and  the  house.  Oliver  would  like  to  whitewash 
them — but  for  filial  piety.  People  might  suppose  him 
ashamed  of  his  origin.  No,  no! — I  mean  those  two  or 
three  old  pictures  at  the  end  of  the  room.  Come  and 
look  at  them — they  are  on  our  way." 

He  led  her  to  inspect  them.  They  proved  to  be  two 
Gainsboroughs  and  a  Raeburn,  representing  ancestors  on 

44 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorij 

Lady  Lucy's  side.  Mr.  Ferrier's  talk  of  them  showed  his 
intimate  knowledge  both  of  Varleys  and  Marshams,  the 
knowledge  rather  of  a  kinsman  than  a  friend.  Diana 
perceived,  indeed,  how  great  must  be  the  affection,  the 
intimacy,  between  him  and  them. 

Meanwhile,  as  the  man  of  fifty  and  the  slender  girl 
in  black  passed  before  him,  on  their  way  to  examine  \ 
the  pictures ,/Sir  James  Chide,  casually  looking  up,  was  \ 
apparently  struck  by  some  rapid  and  powerful  impres- 
sion. It  arrested  the  hand  playing  with  the  dog;  it 
held  and  transformed  the  whole  man.  His  eyes,  open 
as  though  in  astonishment  or  pain,  followed  every  move- 
ment of  Diana,  scrutinized  every  look  and  gesture.  His 
face  had  flushed  slightly — his  lips  were  parted.  He 
had  the  aspect  of  one  trying  eagerly,  passionately,  to 
follow  up  some  clew  that  would  not  unwind  itself;  and 
every  now  and  then  he  bent  forward — listening — trying 
to  catch  her  voice. 

Presently  the  inspection  was  over.  Diana  turned 
and  beckoned  to  Mrs.  Colwood.  The  two  ladies  went 
toward  the  drawing-room,  Mr.  Ferrier  showing  the 
way. 

When  he  returned  to  the  hall,  Sir  James  Chide,  its 
sole  occupant,  was  walking  up  and  down. 

"Who  was  that  young  lady?"  said  Sir  James,  turning 
abruptly. 

"Isn't  she  charming?  Her  name  is  Mallory — and 
she  has  just  settled  at  Beechcote,  near  here.  That  small 
fair  lady  was  her  companion.  Oliver  tells  me  she  is  an 
orphan — well  off — with  no  kith  or  kin.  She  has  just  come 
to  England,  it  seems,  for  the  first  time.  Her  father  ' 
brought  her  up  abroad  away  from  everybody.  She  will 
have  a  success  I  But  of  all  the  little  Jingoes!" 

45 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

Mr.  Ferrier's  face  expressed  an  amused  recollection  of 
some  of  Diana's  speeches. 

"Mallory?"  said  Sir  James,  under  his  breath — 
"  Mallory  f"  He  walked  to  the  window,  and  stood  look- 
ing out,  his  hands  in  his  pockets. 

Mr.  Ferrier  went  up-stairs  to  write  letters.  In  a  few 
minutes  the  man  at  the  window  came  slowly  back  tow- 
ard the  fire,  staring  at  the  ground. 

"The  look  in  the  eyes!"  he  said  to  himself — "the 
mouth! — the  voice!" 

He  stood  by  the  vast  and  pompous  fireplace — hanging 
over  the  blaze — the  prey  of  some  profound  agitation, 
some  flooding  onset  of  memory.  Servants  passed  and 
repassed  through  the  hall;  sounds  loud  and  merry  came 
from  the  drawing-room.  Sir  James  neither  saw  nor 
heard. 


CHAPTER  III 

ALICIA  DRAKE  —  a  vision  of  pale  pink  —  had  just 
2~\  appeared  in  the  long  gallery  at  Tallyn,  on  her  way 
to  dinner.  Her  dress,  her  jewels,  and  all  her  minor  ap- 
pointments were  of  that  quality  and  perfection  to  which 
only  much  thought  and  plentiful  money  can  attain. 
She  had  not,  in  fact,  been  romancing  in  that  account  of 
her  afternoon  which  has  been  already  quoted.  Dress 
was  her  weapon  and  her  stock  in  trade;  it  was,  she  said, 
necessary  to  her  "  career."  And  on  this  plea  she  steadily 
exacted  in  its  support  a  proportion  of  the  family  income 
which  left  but  small  pickings  for  the  schooling  of  her 
younger  brothers  and  the  allowances  of  her  two  younger 
sisters.  But  so  great  were  the  indulgence  and  the  pride 
of  her  parents — small  Devonshire  land-owners  living  on 
an  impoverished  estate — that  Alicia's  demands  were  con- 
ceded without  a  murmur.  They  themselves  were  in- 
significant folk,  who  had,  in  their  own  opinion,  failed  in 
life ;  and  most  of  their  children  seemed  to  them  to  possess 
the  same  ineffective  qualities — or  the  same  absence  of 
qualities — as  themselves.  But  Alicia  represented  their 
one  chance  of  something  brilliant  and  interesting,  some- 
thing to  lift  them  above  their  neighbors  and  break  up 
the  monotony  of  their  later  lives.  Their  devotion  was  a 
strange  mixture  of  love  and  selfishness;  at  any  rate, 
Alicia  could  always  feel,  and  did  always  feel,  that  she 
was  playing  her  family's  game  as  well  as  her  own. 

47 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

Her  own  game,  of  course,  came  first.  She  was  not  a 
beauty,  in  the  sense  in  which  Diana  Mallory  was  a 
beauty;  and  of  that  fact  she  had  been  perfectly  aware 
after  her  first  apparently  careless  glance  at  the  new- 
comer of  the  afternoon.  But  she  had  points  that  never 
failed  to  attract  notice:  a  free  and  rather  insolent 
carriage,  audaciously  beautiful  eyes,  a  general  roundness 
and  softness,  and  a  grace — unfailing,  deliberate,  and  prov- 
ocative, even  in  actions,  morally,  the  most  graceless — 
that  would  have  alone  secured  her  the  "career"  on 
which  she  was  bent. 

Of  her  mental  qualities,  one  of  the  most  profitable 
was  a  very  shrewd  power  of  observation.  As  she  swept 
slowly  along  the  corridor,  which  overlooked  the  hall  at 
Tallyn,  none  of  the  details  of  the  house  were  lost  upon 
her.  Tallyn  was  vast,  ugly — above  all,  rich.  Henry 
Marsham,  the  deceased  husband  of  Lady  Lucy  and 
father  of  Oliver  and  Mrs.  Fotheringham,  had  made  an 
enormous  fortune  in  the  Iron  Trade  of  the  north,  retiring 
at  sixty  that  he  might  enjoy  some  of  those  pleasures  of 
life  for  which  business  had  left  him  too  little  time.  One 
of  these  pleasures  was  building.  Henry  Marsham  had 
spent  ten  years  in  building  Tallyn,  and  at  the  end  of  that 
time,  feeling  it  impossible  to  live  in  the  huge  incoherent 
place  he  had  created,  he  hired  a  small  villa  at  Nice  and 
went  to  die  there  in  privacy  and  peace.  Nevertheless, 
his  will  laid  strict  injunctions  upon  his  widow  to  in- 
habit and  keep  up  Tallyn;  injunctions  backed  by  con- 
siderable sanctions  of  a  financial  kind.  His  will,  indeed, 
had  been  altogether  a  document  of  some  eccentricity; 
though  as  eight  years  had  now  elapsed  since  his  death, 
the  knowledge  of  its  provisions  possessed  by  outsiders 
had  had  time  to  grow  vague.  Still,  there  were  strong 

48 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

general  impressions  abroad,  and  as  Alicia  Drake  surveyed 
the  house  which  the  old  man  had  built  to  be  the  incubus 
of  his  descendants,  some  of  them  teased  her  mind.  It  was 
said,  for  instance,  that  Oliver  Marsham  and  his  sister  only 
possessed  pittances  of  about  a  thousand  a  year  apiece, 
while  Tallyn,  together  with  the  vast  bulk  of  Henry  Mar-  ... 
sham's  fortune,  had  been  willed  to  Lady  Lucy,  and  lay, 
moreover,  at  her  absolute  disposal.  Was  this  so,  or  no? 
Miss  Drake's  curiosity,  for  some  time  past,  would  have 
been  glad  to  be  informed. 

Meanwhile,  here  was  the  house — about  which  there 
was  no  mystery — least  of  all,  as  to  its  cost.  Inter- 
minable broad  corridors,  carpeted  with  ugly  Brussels  and 
suggesting  a  railway  hotel,  branched  out  before  Miss 
Drake's  eyes  in  various  directions;  upon  them  opened 
not  bedrooms  but  "suites,"  as  Mr.  Marsham  pere  had 
loved  to  call  them,  of  which  the  number  was  legion, 
while  the  bachelors'  wing  alone  would  have  lodged  a 
regiment.  Every  bedroom  was  like  every  other,  except 
for  such  variations  as  Tottenham  Court  Road,  rioting  at 
will,  could  suggest.  Copies  in  marble  or  bronze  of  well- 
known  statues  ranged  along  the  corridors  —  a  forlorn 
troupe  of  nude  and  shivering  divinities.  The  immense 
hall  below,  with  its  violent  frescos  and  its  brand-new 
Turkey  carpets,  was  panelled  in  oak,  from  which  some 
device  of  stain  or  varnish  had  managed  to  abstract  every 
particle  of  charm.  A  whole  oak  wood,  indeed,  had  been 
lavished  on  the  swathing  and  sheathing  of  the  house, 
with  the  only  result  that  the  spectator  beheld  it  steeped 
in  a  repellent  yellow-brown  from  top  to  toe,  against 
which  no  ornament,  no  piece  of  china,  no  picture,  even 
did  they  possess  some  individual  beauty,  could  possibly 
make  it  prevail. 

49 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

And  the  drawing-room!  As  Alicia  Drake  advanced 
alone  into  its  empty  and  blazing  magnificence  she  could 
only  laugh  in  its  face — so  eager  and  restless  was  the 
effort  which  it  made,  and  so  hopeless  the  defeat.  Enor- 
mous mirrors,  spread  on  white  and  gold  walls;  large 
copies  from  Italian  pictures,  collected  by  Henry  Marsham 
in  Rome;  more  facile  statues  holding  innumerable  lights; 
great  pieces  of  modern  china  painted  with  realistic  roses 
and  poppies;  crimson  carpets,  gilt  furniture,  and  flaring 
cabinets — Miss  Drake  frowned  as  she  looked  at  it. 
"What  could  be  done  with  it?"  she  said  to  herself,  walk- 
ing slowly  up  and  down,  and  glancing  from  side  to 
side — "What  could  be  done  with  it?" 

A  rustle  in  the  hall  announced  another  guest.  Mrs. 
Fotheringham  entered.  Marsham's  sister  dressed  with 
severity;  and  as  she  approached  her  cousin  she  put  up 
her  eye-glass  for  what  was  evidently  a  hostile  inspection 
of  the  dazzling  effect  presented  by  the  young  lady.  But 
Alicia  was  not  afraid  of  Mrs.  Fotheringham. 

"How  early  we  are!"  she  said,  still  quietly  looking  at 
the  reflection  of  herself  in  the  mirror  over  the  mantel- 
piece and  warming  a  slender  foot  at  the  fire.  "  Haven't 
some  more  people  arrived,  Cousin  Isabel?  I  thought 
I  heard  a  carriage  while  I  was  dressing." 

"Yes;  Miss  Vincent  and  three  men  came  by  the  late 
train." 

"All  Labor  members?"  asked  Alicia,  with  a  laugh. 

Mrs.  Fotheringham  explained,  with  some  tartness, 
that  only  one  of  the  three  was  a  Labor  member — Mr. 
Barton.  Of  the  other  two,  one  was  Edgar  Frobisher,  the 
other  Mr.  McEwart,  a  Liberal  M.P.,  who  had  just  won 
a  hotly  contested  bye-election.  At  the  name  of  Edgar 
Frobisher,  Miss  Drake's  countenance  showed  some  ani- 

50 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

mation.  She  inquired  if  he  had  been  doing  anything 
madder  than  usual.  Mrs.  Fotheringham  replied,  with- 
out enthusiasm,  that  she  knew  nothing  about  his  recent 
doings — nor  about  Mr.  McEwart,  who  was  said,  however, 
to  be  of  the  right  stuff.  Mr.  Barton,  on  the  other  hand, 
"  is  a  great  friend  of  mine — and  a  most  remarkable  man. 
Oliver  has  been  very  lucky  to  get  him. ' ' 

Alicia  inquired  whether  he  was  likely  to  appear  in 
dress  clothes. 

"  Certainly  not.  He  never  does  anything  out  of  keep- 
ing with  his  class — and  he  knows  that  we  lay  no  stress 
on  that  kind  of  thing."  This,  with  another  glance  at  the 
elegant  Paris  frock  which  adorned  the  person  of  Alicia — a 
frock,  in  Mrs.  Fotheringham's  opinion,  far  too  expensive 
for  the  girl's  circumstances.  Alicia  received  the  glance 
without  flinching.  It  was  one  of  her  good  points  that 
she  was  never  meek  with  the  people  who  disliked  her. 
She.  merely  threw  out  another  inquiry  as  to  "  Miss 
Vincent." 

"  One  of  mamma's  acquaintances.  She  was  a  private 
secretary  to  some  one  mamma  knows,  and  she  is  going  to 
do  some  work  for  Oliver  when  the  session  begins. 

"Didn't  Oliver  tell  me  she  is  a  Socialist?" 

Mrs.  Fotheringham  believed  it  might  be  said. 

"How  Miss  Mallory  will  enjoy  herself!"  said  Alicia, 
with  a  little  laugh. 

"Have  you  been  talking  to  Oliver  about  her?"  Mrs. 
Fotheringham  stared  rather  hard  at  her  cousin. 

"Of  course.     Oliver  likes  her." 

"Oliver  likes  a  good  many  people." 

"  Oh  no,  Cousin  Isabel !  Oliver  likes  very  few  people- 
very,  very  few,"  said  Miss  Drake,  decidedly,  looking 
down  into  the  fire. 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

"  I  don't  know  why  you  give  Oliver  such  an  un- 
amiable  character!  In  my  opinion,  he  is  often  not  so 
much  on  his  guard  as  I  should  like  to  see  him." 

"Oh,  well,  we  can't  all  be  as  critical  as  you,  dear 
Cousin  Isabel!  But,  anyway,  Oliver  admires  Miss  Mai- 
lory  extremely.  We  can  all  see  that." 

The  girl  turned  a  steady  face  on  her  companion.  Mrs. 
Fotheringham  was  conscious  of  a  certain  secret  admira- 
tion. But  her  own  point  of  view  had  nothing  to  do  with 
Miss  Drake's. 

"  It  amuses  him  to  talk  to  her,"  she  said,  sharply;  "  I 
am  sure  I  hope  it  won't  come  to  anything  more.  It 
would  be  very  unsuitable." 

"  Why  ?     Politics  ?     Oh !  that  doesn't  matter  a  bit. ' ' 

"  I  beg  your  pardon.  Oliver  is  becoming  an  important 
man,  and  it  will  never  do  for  him  to  hamper  himself  with 
a  wife  who  cannot  sympathize  with  any  of  his  enthu- 
siasms and  ideals." 

Miss  Drake  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"He  would  convert  her — and  he  likes  triumphing. 
Oh!  Cousin  Isabel! — look  at  that  lamp!" 

An  oil  lamp  in  an  inner  drawing-room,  placed  to 
illuminate  an  easel  portrait  of  Lady  Lucy,  was  smoking 
atrociously.  The  two  ladies  flew  toward  it,  and  were 
soon  lost  to  sight  and  hearing  amid  a  labyrinth  of  furni- 
ture and  palms. 

The  place  they  left  vacant  was  almost  immediately 
filled  by  Oliver  Marsham  himself,  who  came  in  studying 
a  pencilled  paper,  containing  the  names  of  the  guests. 
He  and  his  mother  had  not  found  the  dinner  very  easy 
to  arrange.  Upon  his  heels  followed  Mr.  Ferrier,  who 
hurried  to  the  fire,  rubbing  his  hands  and  complaining 
of  the  cold. 

52 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

"  I  never  felt  this  house  cold  before.  Has  anything 
happened  to  your  caloriferef  These  rooms  are  too  big! 
By-the-way,  Oliver" — Mr.  Ferrier  turned  his  back  to  the 
blaze,  and  looked  round  him — "  when  are  you  going  to 
reform  this  one?" 

Oliver  surveyed  it. 

"  Of  course  I  should  like  nothing  better  than  to  make 
a  bonfire  of  it  all!  But  mother — " 

"Of  course — of  course!  Ah,  well,  perhaps  when  you 
marry,  my  dear  boy !  Another  reason  for  making  haste !" 

The  older  man  turned  a  laughing  eye  on  his  com- 
panion. Marsham  merely  smiled,  a  little  vaguely,  with- 
out reply.  Ferrier  observed  him,  then  began  abstractedly 
to  study  the  carpet.  After  a  moment  he  looked  up — 

"  I  like  your  little  friend,  Oliver — I  like  her  par* 
ticularly!" 

"Miss  Mallory?  Yes,  I  saw  you  had  been  making 
acquaintance.  Well?" 

His  voice  affected  a  light  indifference,  but  hardly  suc- 
ceeded. 

"A  very  attractive  personality! — fresh  and  womanly 
— no  nonsense — heart  enough  for  a  dozen.  But  all  the 
same  the  intellect  is  hungry,  and  wants  feeding.  No 
one  will  ever  succeed  with  her,  Oliver,  who  forgets  she 
has  a  brain.  Ah!  here  she  is!" 

For  the  door  had  been  thrown  open,  and  Diana  entered, 
followed  by  Mrs.  Colwood.  She  came  in  slowly,  her  brow 
slightly  knit,  and  her  black  eyes  touched  with  the  intent 
seeking  look  which  was  natural  to  them.  Her  dress  of 
the  freshest  simplest  white  fell  about  her  in  plain  folds. 
It  made  the  same  young  impression  as  the  childish  curls 
on  the  brow  and  temples,  and  both  men  watched  her  with 
delight.  Marsham  went  to  meet  her. 

S3 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

"Will  you  sit  on  my  left?  I  must  take  in  Lady 
Niton." 

Diana  smiled  and  nodded. 

"  And  who  is  to  be  my  fate  ?" 

41  Mr.  Edgar  Frobisher.  You  will  quarrel  with  him — 
and  like  him!" 

"  One  of  the  '  Socialists'  ?" 

41  Ah — you  must  find  out!" 

He  threw  her  a  laughing  backward  glance  as  he  went 
off  to  give  directions  to  some  of  his  other  guests.  The 
room  filled  up.  Diana  was  aware  of  a  tall  young  man, 
fair-haired,  and  evidently  Scotch,  whom  she  had  not  seen 
before,  and  then  of  a  girl,  whose  appearance  and  dress 
riveted  her  attention.  She  was  thin  and  small — hand- 
some, but  for  a  certain  strained  emaciated  air,  a  lack  of 
complexion  and  of  bloom.  But  her  blue  eyes,  black- 
lashed  and  black-browed,  were  superb ;  they  made  indeed 
the  note,  the  distinction  of  the  whole  figure.  The  thick 
hair,  cut  short  in  the  neck,  was  brushed  back  and  held  by 
a  blue  ribbon,  the  only  trace  of  ornament  in  a  singular 
costume,  which  consisted  of  a  very  simple  morning  dress, 
of  some  woollen  material,  nearly  black,  garnished  at  the 
throat  and  wrists  by  some  plain  white  frills.  The  dress 
hung  loosely  on  the  girl's  starved  frame,  the  hands  were 
long  and  thin,  the  face  sallow.  Yet  such  was  the  force  of 
the  eyes,  the  energy  of  the  strong  chin  and  mouth,  the 
flashing  freedom  of  her  smile,  as  she  stood  talking  to  Lady 
Lucy,  that  all  the  ugly  plainness  of  the  dress  seemed  to 
Diana,  as  she  watched  her,  merely  to  increase  her  strange 
effectiveness,  to  mark  her  out  the  more  favorably  from 
the  glittering  room,  from  Lady  Lucy's  satin  and  dia- 
monds, or  the  shimmering  elegance  of  Alicia  Drake. 

As  she  bowed  to  Mr.  Frobisher,  and  took  his  arm  amid 

54 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

the  pairs  moving  toward  the  dining-room,  Diana  asked 
him  eagerly  who  the  lady  in  the  dark  dress  might  be. 

"Oh!  a  great  friend  of  mine,"  he  said,  pleasantly. 
"Isn't  she  splendid?  Did  you  notice  her  evening 
dress?" 

"Is  it  an  evening  dress?" 

"  It's  her  evening  dress.  She  possesses  two  costumes 
— both  made  of  the  same  stuff,  only  the  morning  one  has 
a  straight  collar,  and  the  evening  one  has  frills." 

"  She  doesn't  think  it  right  to  dress  like  other  peo- 
ple?" 

"  "Well — she  has  very  little  money,  and  what  she  has 
she  can't  afford  to  spend  on  dress.  No — I  suppose  she 
doesn't  think  it  right.'* 

By  this  time  they  were  settled  at  table,  and  Diana, 
convinced  that  she  had  found  one  of  the  two  Socialists 
promised  her,  looked  round  for  the  other.  Ah!  there  he 
was,  beside  Mrs.  Fotheringham — who  was  talking  to 
him  with  an  eagerness  rarely  vouchsafed  to  her  acquaint- 
ances. A  powerful,  short-necked  man,  in  the  black 
Sunday  coat  of  the  workman,  with  sandy  hair,  blunt 
features,  and  a  furrowed  brow — he  had  none  of  the 
magnetism,  the  strange  refinement  of  the  lady  in  the 
frills.  Diana  drew  a  long  breath. 

"  How  odd  it  all  is!"  she  said,  as  though  to  herself. 

Her  companion  looked  at  her  with  amusement. 

"What  is  odd?  The  combination  of  this  house— 
with  Barton — and  Miss  Vincent?" 

"Why  do  they  consent  to  come  here?"  she  asked, 
wondering.  "  I  suppose  they  despise  the  rich." 

"Not  at  all!  The  poor  things — the  rich — can't  help 
themselves — just  yet.  We  come  here — because  we  mean 
to  use  the  rich." 

55 


The   Testing   of    Diana    Mallory 

"You!— you  too?" 

"A  Fabian — "  he  said,  smiling.  "Which  means  that 
I  am  not  in  such  a  hurry  as  Barton." 

"To  ruin  your  country?  You  would  only  murder 
her  by  degrees  ?" — flashed  Diana. 

"Ah! — you  throw  down  the  glove? — so  soon?  Shall 
we  postpone  it  for  a  course  or  two?  I  am  no  use  till  I 
have  fed." 

Diana  laughed.  They  fell  into  a  gossip  about  their 
neighbors.  The  plain  young  man,  with  a  shock  of  fair 
hair,  a  merry  eye,  a  short  chin,  and  the  spirits  of  a 
school-boy,  sitting  on  Lady  Niton's  left,  was,  it  seemed, 
the  particular  pet  and  prote'ge'  of  that  masterful  old  lady. 
Diana  remembered  to  have  seen  him  at  tea-time  in  Miss 
Drake's  train.  Lady  Niton,  she  was  told,  disliked  her 
own  sons,  but  was  never  tired  of  befriending  two  or  three 
young  men  who  took  her  fancy.  Bobbie  Forbes  was  a 
constant  frequenter  of  her  house  on  Campden  Hill. 
"But  he  is  no  toady.  He  tells  her  a  number  of  plain 
truths — and  amuses  her  guests.  In  return  she  provides 
him  with  what  she  calls  '  the  best  society ' — and  pushes 
his  interests  in  season  and  out  of  season.  He  is  in  the 
Foreign  Office,  and  she  is  at  present  manoeuvring  to  get 
him  attached  to  the  Special  Mission  which  is  going  out 
to  Constantinople." 

Diana  glanced  across  the  table,  and  in  doing  so  met 
the  eyes  of  Mr.  Bobbie  Forbes,  which  laughed  into  hers 
— involuntarily — as  much  as  to  say — "  You  see  my 
plight? — ridiculous,  isn't  it?" 

For  Lady  Niton  was  keeping  a  greedy  conversational 
hold  on  both  Marsham  and  the  young  man,  pouncing  to 
right  or  left,  as  either  showed  a  disposition  to  escape 
from  it — so  that  Forbes  was  violently  withheld  from 

56 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

Alicia   Drake,    his   rightful   lady,    and   Marsham   could 
engage  in  no  consecutive  conversation  with  Diana. 

"No  escape  for  you!"  smiled  Mr.  Frobisher,  presently, 
observing  the  position.  "  Lady  Niton  always  devastates 
a  dinner-party." 

Diana  protested  that  she  was  quite  content.  Might 
she  assume,  after  the  fourth  course,  that  his  hunger  was 
at  least  scotched  and  conversation  thrown  open? 

"  I  am  fortified  —  thank  you.  Shall  we  go  back  to 
where  we  left  off  ?  You  had  just  accused  me  of  ruining 
the  country?" 

"By  easy  stages,"  said  Diana.  "Wasn't  that  where 
we  had  come  to  ?  But  first — tell  me,  because  it's  all  so 
puzzling! — do  you  and  Mr.  Marsham  agree?" 

"  A  good  deal.  But  he  thinks  he  can  use  us — which  is 
his  mistake." 

"And  Mr.  Ferrier?" 

Mr.  Frobisher  shook  his  head  good-humoredly. 

"No,  no! — Ferrier  is  a  Whig — the  Whig  of  to-day, 
bien  entendu,  who  is  a  very  different  person  from  the 
Whig  of  yesterday — still,  a  Whig,  an  individualist,  a 
moderate  man.  He  leads  the  Liberal  party — and  it  is 
changing  all  the  time  under  his  hand  into  something  he 
dreads  and  detests.  The  party  can't  do  without  him 
now — but—" 

He  paused,  smiling. 

"  It  will  shed  him  some  day?" 

"It  must!" 

"And  where  will  Mr.  Marsham  be  then?" 

"  On  the  winning  side — I  think." 

The  tone  was  innocent  and  careless;  but  the  words 
offended  her. 

She  drew  herself  up  a  little. 
5  57 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

"  He  would  never  betray  his  friends!" 

"  Certainly  not,"  said  Mr.  Frobisher,  hastily;  "  I  didn't 
mean  that.  But  Marsham  has  a  mind  more  open, 
more  elastic,  more  modern  than  Ferrier — great  man  as 
he  is." 

Diana  was  silent.  She  seemed  still  to  hear  some 
of  the  phrases  and  inflections  of  Mr.  Ferrier's  talk  of 
the  afternoon.  Mr.  Frobisher' s  prophecy  wounded  some 
new-born  sympathy  in  her.  She  turned  the  conversa- 
tion. 

With  Oliver  Marsham  she  talked  when  she  could,  as 
Lady  Niton  allowed  her.  She  succeeded,  at  least,  in 
learning  something  more  of  her  right-hand  neighbor  and 
of  Miss  Vincent.  Mr.  Frobisher,  it  appeared,  was  a 
Fellow  of  Magdalen,  and  was  at  present  lodging  in  Lime- 
house,  near  the  docks,  studying  poverty  and  Trade- 
unionism,  and  living  upon  a  pound  a  week.  As  for  Miss 
Vincent,  in  her  capacity  of  secretary  to  a  well-known 
Radical  member  of  Parliament,  she  had  been  employed, 
for  his  benefit,  in  gathering  information  first-hand,  very 
often  in  the  same  fields  where  Mr.  Frobisher  was  at  work. 
This  brought  them  often  together — and  they  were  the 
best  of  comrades,  and  allies. 

Diana's  eyes  betrayed  her  curiosity;  she  seemed  to 
be  asking  for  clews  in  a  strange  world.  Marsham  ap- 
parently felt  that  nothing  could  be  more  agreeable  than 
to  guide  her.  He  began  to  describe  for  her  the  life  of 
such  a  woman  of  the  people  as  Marion  Vincent.  An  orphan 
at  fourteen,  earning  her  own  living  from  the  first;  self- 
dependent,  self-protected;  the  friend,  on  perfectly  equal 
terms,  of  a  group  of  able  men,  interested  in  the  same 
social  ideals  as  herself;  living  alone,  in  contempt  of  all 

58 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

ordinary  conventions,  now  in  Kensington  or  Belgravia, 
and  now  in  a  back  street  of  Stepney,  or  Poplar,  and 
equally  at  home  and  her  own  mistress  in  both ;  exacting 
from  a  rich  employer  the  full  market  value  of  the  services 
she  rendered  him,  and  refusing  to  accept  the  smallest 
gift  or  favor  beyond ;  a  convinced  Socialist  and  champion 
of  the  poor,  who  had  within  the  past  twelve  months,  to 
Marsham's  knowledge,  refused  an  offer  of  marriage  from 
a  man  of  large  income,  passionately  devoted  to  her, 
whom  she  liked — mainly,  it  was  believed,  because  his 
wealth  was  based  on  sweated  labor:  such  was  the 
character  sketched  by  Marsham  for  his  neighbor  in  the 
intermittent  conversation,  which  was  all  that  Lady 
Niton  allowed  him. 

Diana  listened  silently,  but  inwardly  her  mind  was 
full  of  critical  reactions.  Was  this  what  Mr.  Marsham 
most  admired,  his  ideal  of  what  a  woman  should  be? 
Was  he  exalting,  exaggerating  it  a  little,  by  way  of  an- 
tithesis to  those  old-fashioned  surroundings,  that  unreal 
atmosphere,  as  he  would  call  it,  in  which,  for  instance,  he 
had  found  her — Diana — at  Rapallo — under  her  father's 
influence  and  bringing  up  ?  The  notion  spurred  her 
pride  as  well  as  her  loyalty  to  her  father.  She  began  to 
hold  herself  rather  stiffly,  to  throw  in  a  critical  remark  or 
two,  to  be  a  little  flippant  even,  at  Miss  Vincent's  expense. 
Homage  so  warm  laid  at  the  feet  of  one  ideal  was — she 
felt  it — a  disparagement  of  others;  she  stood  for  those 
others;  and  presently  Marsham  began  to  realize  a  hurt- 
ling of  shafts  in  the  air,  an  incipient  battle  between 
them. 

He  accepted  it  with  delight.  Still  the  same  poetical, 
combative,  impulsive  creature,  with  the  deep  soft  voice! 
She  pleased  his  senses;  she  stirred  his  mind;  and  he 

59 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

would  have  thrown  himself  into  one  of  the  old  Rapallo 
arguments  with  her  then  and  there  but  for  the  gad-fly 
at  his  elbow. 

Immediately  after  dinner  Lady  Niton  possessed  her- 
self of  Diana.  "Come  here,  please,  Miss  Mallory!  I 
wish  to  make  your  acquaintance."  Thus  commanded, 
the  laughing  but  rebellious  Diana  allowed  herself  to  be 
led  to  a  corner  of  the  over-illuminated  drawing-room. 

"Well!" — said  Lady  Niton,  observing  her — "so  you 
have  come  to  settle  in  these  parts?" 

Diana  assented. 

"What  made  you  choose  Brookshire?"  The  question 
was  enforced  by  a  pair  of  needle-sharp  eyes.  "  There 
isn't  a  person  worth  talking  to  within  a  radius  of  twenty 
miles." 

Diana  declined  to  agree  with  her;  whereupon  Lady 
Niton  impatiently  exclaimed :  "  Tut — tut!  One  might  as 
well  milk  he-goats  as  talk  to  the  people  here.  Nothing 
to  be  got  out  of  any  of  them.  Do  you  like  conversa- 
tion?" 

"  Immensely!" 

"Hum! — But  mind  you  don't  talk  too  much.  Oliver 
talks  a  great  deal  more  than  is  good  for  him.  So  you 
met  Oliver  in  Italy?  What  do  you  think  of  him?" 

Diana,  keeping  a  grip  on  laughter,  said  something 
civil. 

"Oh,  Oliver's  clever  enough — and  ambitious!"  Lady 
Niton  threw  up  her  hands.  "But  I'll  tell  you  what 
stands  in  his  way.  He  says  too  sharp  things  of  people. 
Do  you  notice  that?" 

"  He  is  very  critical,"  said  Diana,  evasively. 

"Oh,  Lord,  much  worse  than  that!"  said  Lady  Niton, 

60 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

coolly.     "  He    makes    himself    very    unpopular.     You 
should  tell  him  so." 

"That  would  be  hardly  my  place,"  said  Diana,  flush- 
ing a  little. 

Lady  Niton  stared  at  her  a  moment  rather  hard — 
then  said  :  "  But  he's  honey  and  balm  itself  compared  to 
Isabel!  The  Marshams  are  old  friends  of  mine,  but  I 
don't  pretend  to  like  Isabel  Fotheringham  at  all.  She 
calls  herself  a  Radical,  and  there's  no  one  insists  more 
upon  their  birth  and  their  advantages  than  she.  Don't 
let  her  bully  you — come  to  me  if  she  does — I'll  protect 
you." 

Diana  said  vaguely  that  Mrs.  Fotheringham  had  been 
very  kind. 

"  You  haven't  had  time  to  find  out,"  said  Lady  N;ton, 
grimly.  She  leaned  back  fanning  herself,  her  queer  white 
face  and  small  black  eyes  alive  with  malice.  "  Did  you 
ever  see  such  a  crew  as  we  were  at  dinner  ?  I  reminded 
Oliver  of  the  rhyme — '  The  animals  went  in  two  by  two.' 
— It's  always  the  way  here.  There's  no  society  in  this 
house,  because  you  can't  take  anything  or  any  one  for 
granted.  One  must  always  begin  from  the  beginning. 
What  can  I  have  in  common  with  that  man  Barton? 
The  last  time  I  talked  to  him,  he  thought  Lord  Grey — 
the  Reform  Bill  Lord  Grey — was  a  Tory — and  had  never 
heard  of  Louis  Philippe.  He  knows  nothing  that  we 
know — and  what  do  I  care  about  his  Socialist  stuff? — 
Well,  now — Alicia " — her  tone  changed — "  do  you  admire 
Alicia?" 

Diana,  in  discomfort,  glanced  through  the  archway, 
leading  to  the  inner  drawing-room,  which  framed  the 
sparkling  figure  of  Miss  Drake — and  murmured  a  com- 
plimentary remark. 

61 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mal.lorg 

"No!" — said  Lady  Niton,  with  emphasis;  "no — she's 
not  handsome — though  she  makes  people  believe  she  is. 
You'll  see — in  five  years.  Of  course  the  stupid  men 
admire  her,  and  she  plays  her  cards  very  cleverly;  but 
— my  dear!" — suddenly  the  formidable  old  woman  bent 
forward,  and  tapped  Diana's  arm  with  her  fan — "  let  me 
give  you  a  word  of  advice.  Don't  be  too  innocent  here — 
or  too  amiable.  Don't  give  yourself  away — especially 
to  Alicia!" 

Diana  had  the  disagreeable  feeling  of  being  looked 
through  and  through,  physically  and  mentally;  though  at 
the  same  time  she  was  only  very  vaguely  conscious  as  to 
what  there  might  be  either  for  Lady  Niton  or  Miss  Drake 
to  see. 

"Thank  you  very  much,"  she  said,  trying  to  laugh 
it  off.  "It  is  very  kind  of  you  to  warn  me — but  really 
I  don't  think  you  need."  She  looked  round  her  waver- 
ingly. 

"  May  I  introduce  you  to  my  friend  ?  Mrs.  Colwood — 
Lady  Niton."  For  her  glance  of  appeal  had  brought  Mrs. 
Colwood  to  her  aid,  and  between  them  they  coped  with 
this  enfant  terrible  among  dowagers  till  the  gentlemen 
came  in. 

"  Here  is  Sir  James  Childe,"  said  Lady  Niton,  rising. 
"  He  wants  to  talk  to  you,  and  he  don't  like  me.  So  I'll 
go." 

Sir  James,  not  without  a  sly  smile,  discharged  arrow- 
like  at  the  retreating  enemy,  took  the  seat  she  had 
vacated. 

"This  is  your  first  visit  to  Tallyn,  Miss  Mallory?" 

The  voice  speaking  was  the  voix  d'or  familiar  to 
Englishmen  in  many  a  famous  case,  capable  of  any  note, 
any  inflection,  to  which  sarcasm  or  wrath,  shrewdness  or 

62 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

pathos,  might  desire  to  tune  it.  In  this  case  it  was 
gentleness  itself;  and  so  was  the  countenance  he  turned 
upon  Diana.  Yet  it  was  a  countenance  built  rather  for 
the  sterner  than  the  milder  uses  of  life.  A  natural  majesty 
expressed  itself  in  the  domed  forehead,  and  in  the  fine 
head,  lightly  touched  with  gray;  the  eyes  too  were 
gray,  the  lips  prominent  and  sensitive,  the  face  long, 
and,  in  line,  finely  regular.  A  face  of  feeling  and  of 
power;  the  face  of  a  Celt,  disciplined  by  the  stress  and 
conflict  of  a  non-Celtic  world.  Diana's  young  sym- 
pathies sprang  to  meet  it,  and  they  were  soon  in  easy 
conversation. 

Sir  James  questioned  her  kindly,  but  discreetly.  This 
was  really  her  first  visit  to  Brookshire? 

"To  England!"  said  Diana;  and  then,  on  a  little  woo- 
ing, came  out  the  girl's  first  impressions,  natural,  enthu- 
siastic, gay.  Sir  James  listened,  with  eyes  half-closed, 
following  every  movement  of  her  lips,  every  gesture  of 
head  and  hand. 

"Your  parents  took  you  abroad  quite  as  a  child?" 

"  I  went  with  my  father.  My  mother  died  when  I  was 
quite  small." 

Sir  James  did  not  speak  for  a  moment.  At  last  he 
said: 

"But  before  you  went  abroad,  you  lived  in  London?" 

"Yes — in  Kensington  Square." 

Sir  James  made  a  sudden  movement  which  displaced 
a  book  on  a  little  table  beside  him.  He  stooped  to  pick 
it  up. 

"And  your  father  was  tired  of  England?" 

Diana  hesitated — 

"  I — I  think  he  had  gone  through  great  trouble.  He 
never  got  over  mamma's  death." 

63 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

"Oh  yes,  I  see,"  said  Sir  James,  gently.  Then,  in 
another  tone : 

"  So  you  settled  on  that  beautiful -coast?  I  wonder  if 
that  was  the  winter  I  first  saw  Italy?" 

He  named  the  year. 

"Yes — that  was  the  year,"  said  Diana.  "Had  you 
never  seen  Italy  before  that?"  She  looked  at  him  in  a 
little  surprise. 

"Do  I  seem  to  you  so  old?"  said  Sir  James,  smiling. 
"  I  had  been  a  very  busy  man,  Miss  Mallory,  and  my 
holidays  had  been  generally  spent  in  Ireland.  But  that 
year1' — he  paused  a  moment — "  that  year  I  had  been  ill, 
and  the  doctors  sent  me  abroad — in  October,"  he  added, 
slowly  and  precisely.  "  I  went  first  to  Paris,  and  I  was 
at  Genoa  in  November." 

"  We  must  have  been  there — just  about  then !  Mamma 
died  in  October.  And  I  remember  the  winter  was  just 
beginning  at  Genoa — it  was  very  cold — and  I  got  bron- 
chitis— I  was  only  a  little  thing." 

"  And  Oliver  tells  me  you  found  a  home  at  Portofino  ?" 

Diana  replied.  He  kept  her  talking ;  yet  her  impression 
was  that  he  did  not  listen  very  much  to  what  she  said. 
At  the  same  time  she  felt  herself  studied,  in  a  way  which 
made  her  self-conscious,  which  perhaps  she  might  have 
resented  in  any  man  less  polished  and  less  courteous. 

"  Pardon  me —  '  he  said,  abruptly,  at  a  pause  in  the 
conversation.  "  Your  name  interests  me  particularly. 
It  is  Welsh,  is  it  not?  I  knew  two  or  three  persons  of 
that  name;  and  they  were  Welsh." 

Diana's  look  changed  a  little. 

"Yes,  it  is  Welsh,"  she  said,  in  a  hesitating,  reserved 
voice;  and  then  looked  round  her  as  though  in  search  of 
a  change  of  topic. 

64 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

Sir  James  bent  forward. 

"  May  I  come  and  see  you  some  day  at  Beechcote  ?" 

Diana  flushed  with  surprise  and  pleasure. 

"  Oh!  I  should  be  so  honored!" 

"The  honor  would  be  mine,"  he  said,  with  pleasant 
deference.  "  Now  I  think  I  see  that  Marsham  is  wroth 
with  me  for  monopolizing  you  like  this." 

He  rose  and  walked  away,  just  as  Marsham  brought 
up  Mr.  Barton  to  introduce  him  to  Diana. 

Sir  James  wandered  on  into  a  small  drawing-room  at 
the  end  of  the  long  suite  of  rooms;  in  its  seclusion  he 
turned  back  to  look  at  the  group  he  had  left  behind.  His 
face,  always  delicately  pale,  had  grown  strained  and 
white. 

"  Is  it  possible" — he  said  to  himself — "  that  she  knows 
nothing? — that  that  man  was  able  to  keep  it  all  from 
her?" 

He  walked  up  and  down  a  little  by  himself — ponder- 
ing— the  prey  of  the  same  emotion  as  had  seized  him  in 
the  afternoon;  till  at  last  his  ear  was  caught  by  some 
hubbub,  some  agitation  in  the  big  drawing-room,  espe- 
cially by  the  sound  of  the  girlish  voice  he  had  just  been 
listening  to,  only  speaking  this  time  in  quite  another  key. 
He  returned  to  see  what  was  the  matter. 

He  found  Miss  Mallory  the  centre  of  a  circle  of  spec- 
tators and  listeners,  engaged  apparently  in  a  three- 
cornered  and  very  hot  discussion  with  Mr.  Barton,  the 
Socialist  member,  and  Oliver  Marsham.  Diana  had  en- 
tirely forgotten  herself,  her  shyness,  the  strange  house, 
and  all  her  alarms.  If  Lady  Niton  took  nothing  for 
granted  at  Tallyn,  that  was  not,  it  seemed,  the  case  with 
John  Barton.  He,  on  the  contrary,  took  it  for  granted 

65 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

that  everybody  there  was  at  least  a  good  Radical,  and  as 
stoutly  opposed  as  himself  to  the  "  wild-cat "  and  "  Jingo" 
policy  of  the  Government  on  the  Indian  frontier,  where 
one  of  our  perennial  little  wars  was  then  proceeding. 
News  had  arrived  that  afternoon  of  an  indecisive  engage- 
ment, in  which  the  lives  of  three  English  officers  and 
some  fifty  men  of  a  Sikh  regiment  had  been  lost.  Mr. 
Barton,  in  taking  up  the  evening  paper,  lying  beside 
Diana,  which  contained  the  news,  had  made  very  much 
the  remark  foretold  by  Captain  Roughsedge  in  the  after- 
noon. It  was,  he  thought,  a  pity  the  repulse  had  not 
been  more  decisive — so  as  to  show  all  the  world  into 
what  a  hornet's  nest  the  Government  was  going — "  and  a 
hornet's  nest  which  will  cost  us  half  a  million  to  take 
before  we've  done." 

Diana's  cheeks  flamed.  Did  Mr.  Barton  mean  to 
regret  that  no  more  English  lives  had  been  lost  ? 

Mr.  Barton  was  of  opinion  that  if  the  defeat  had  been 
a  bit  worse,  bloodshed  might  have  been  saved  in  the  end. 
A  Jingo  Viceroy  and  a  Jingo  press  could  only  be  stopped 
by  disaster — 

On  the  contrary,  said  Diana,  we  could  not  afford  to  be 
stopped  by  disaster.  Disaster  must  be  retrieved. 

Mr.  Barton  asked  her — why?  Were  we  never  to 
admit  that  we  were  in  the  wrong? 

The  Viceroy  and  his  advisers,  she  declared,  were  not 
likely  to  be  wrong.  And  prestige  had  to  be  maintained. 

At  the  word  "prestige"  the  rugged  face  of  the  Labor 
member  grew  contemptuous  and  a  little  angry.  He 
dealt  with  it  as  he  was  accustomed  to  deal  with  it  in 
Socialist  meetings  or  in  Parliament.  His  touch  in 
doing  so  was  neither  light  nor  conciliatory;  the  young 
lady,  he  thought,  required  plain  speaking. 

66 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

But  so  far  from  intimidating  the  young  lady,  he  found 
in  the  course  of  a  few  more  thrusts  and  parries  that  he 
had  roused  a  by  no  means  despicable  antagonist.  Diana 
was  a  mere  mouth-piece ;  but  she  was  the  mouth-piece  of 
eye-witnesses;  whereas  Barton  was  the  mouth-piece  of 
his  daily  newspaper  and  a  handful  of  partisan  books 
written  to  please  the  political  section  to  which  he  be- 
longed. 

He  began  to  stumble  and  to  make  mistakes — gross 
elementary  mistakes  in  geography  and  fact — and  there- 
with to  lose  his  temper.  Diana  was  upon  him  in  a 
moment — very  cool  and  graceful — controlling  herself 
well;  and  it  is  probable  that  she  would  have  won  the 
day  triumphantly  but  for  the  sudden  intervention  of  her 
host. 

Oliver  Marsham  had  been  watching  her  with  mingled 
amusement  and  admiration.  The  slender  figure  held 
defiantly  erect,  the  hands  close-locked  on  the  knee,  the 
curly  head  with  the  air  of  a  Nike" — he  could  almost  see 
the  palm  branch  in  the  hand,  the  white  dress  and  the 
silky  hair,  blown  back  by  the  blasts  of  victory! — appealed 
to  a  rhetorical  element  in  his  nature  always  closely  com- 
bined both  with  his  feelings  and  his  ambitions.  Head- 
long energy  and  partisanship — he  was  enchanted  to  find 
how  beautiful  they  could  be,  and  he  threw  himself  into 
the  discussion  simply — at  first — that  he  might  prolong 
an  emotion,  might  keep  the  red  burning  on  her  lip  and 
cheek.  That  blundering  fellow  Barton  should  not  have 
it  all  to  himself! 

But  he  was  no  sooner  well  in  it  than  he  too  began  to 
flounder.  He  rode  off  upon  an  inaccurate  telegram  in  a 
morning  paper;  Diana  fell  upon  it  at  once,  tripped  it  up, 
exposed  it,  drove  it  from  the  field,  while  Mr.  Ferrier 

67 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

approved  her  from  the  background  with  a  smiling  eye 
and  a  quietly  applauding  hand.  Then  Marsham  quoted 
a  speech  in  the  Indian  Council. 

Diana  dismissed  it  with  contempt,  as  the  shaft  of 
a  frondeur  discredited  by  both  parties.  He  fell  back 
on  Blue  Books,  and  other  ponderosities — Barton  by  this 
time  silent,  or  playing  a  clumsy  chorus.  But  if  Diana  was 
not  acquainted  with  these  things  in  the  ore,  so  to  speak, 
she  was  more  than  a  little  acquainted  with  the  missiles 
that  could  be  forged  from  them.  That  very  afternoon 
Hugh  Roughsedge  had  pointed  her  to  some  of  the  best. 
She  took  them  up — a  little  wildly  now — for  her  coolness 
was  departing — and  for  a  time  Marsham  could  hardly 
keep  his  footing. 

A  good  many  listeners  were  by  now  gathered  round 
the  disputants.  Lady  Niton,  wielding  some  noisy  knit- 
ting needles  by  the  fireside,  was  enjoying  the  fray  all 
the  more  that  it  seemed  to  be  telling  against  Oliver. 
Mrs.  Fotheringham,  on  the  other  hand,  who  came  up 
occasionally  to  the  circle,  listened  and  went  away  again, 
was  clearly  seething  with  suppressed  wrath,  and  had  to 
be  restrained  once  or  twice  by  her  brother  from  inter- 
fering, in  a  tone  which  would  at  once  have  put  an  end 
to  a  duel  he  himself  only  wished  to  prolong. 

Mr.  Ferrier  perceived  her  annoyance,  and  smiled  over 
it.  In  spite  of  his  long  friendship  with  the  family,  Isabel 
Fotheringham  was  no  favorite  with  the  great  man.  She 
had  long  seemed  to  him  a  type — a  strange  and  modern 
type — of  the  feminine  fanatic  who  allows  political  differ- 
ence to  interfere  not  only  with  private  friendship  but 
with  the  nearest  and  most  sacred  ties;  and  his  philos- 
opher's soul  revolted.  Let  a  woman  talk  politics,  if  she 
must,  like  this  eager  idealist  girl — not  with  the  venom 

68 


The    Testing   of    Diana    Mallorg 

and  gall  of  the  half-educated  politician.  "As  if  we 
hadn't  enough  of  that  already!" 

Other  spectators  paid  more  frivolous  visits  to  the 
scene.  Bobbie  Forbes  and  Alicia  Drake,  attracted  by 
the  sounds  of  war,  looked  in  from  the  next  room.  Forbes 
listened  a  moment,  shrugged  his  shoulders,  made  a 
whistling  mouth,  and  then  walked  off  to  a  glass  book- 
case— the  one  sign  of  civilization  in  the  vast  room — 
where  he  was  soon  absorbed  in  early  editions  of  English 
poets,  Lady  Lucy's  inheritance  from  a  literary  father. 
Alicia  moved  about,  a  little  restless  and  scornful,  now 
listening  unwillingly,  and  now  attempting  diversions. 
But  in  these  she  found  no  one  to  second  her,  not  even 
the  two  pink-and-white  nieces  of  Lady  Lucy,  who  did 
not  understand  a  word  of  what  was  going  on,  but  were 
none  the  less  gazing  open-mouthed  at  Diana. 

Marion  Vincent  meanwhile  had  drawn  nearer  to 
Diana.  Her  strong  significant  face  wore  a  quiet  smile; 
there  was  a  friendly,  even  an  admiring  penetration  in 
the  look  with  which  she  watched  the  young  prophetess 
of  Empire  and  of  War.  As  for  Lady  Lucy,  she  was 
silent,  and  rather  grave.  In  her  secret  mind  she  thought 
that  young  girls  should  not  be  vehement  or  presump- 
tuous. It  was  a  misfortune  that  this  pretty  creature  had 
not  been  more  reasonably  brought  up;  a  mother's  hand 
had  been  wanting.  While  not  only  Mr.  Ferrier  and 
Mrs.  Colwood,  sitting  side  by  side  in  the  background, 
but  everybody  else  present,  in  some  measure  or  degree, 
was  aware  of  some  play  of  feeling  in  the  scene,  beyond 
and  behind  the  obvious,  some  hidden  forces,  or  rather, 
perhaps,  some  emerging  relation,  which  gave  it  signifi- 
cance and  thrill.  The  duel  was  a  duel  of  brains — un- 
equal at  that;  what  made  it  fascinating  was  the  universal 

69 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

or  typical  element  in  the  clash  of  the  two  personalities — 
the  man  using  his  whole  strength,  more  and  more  tyran- 
nously,  more  and  more  stubbornly — the  girl  resisting, 
flashing,  appealing,  fighting  for  dear  life,  now  gaining, 
now  retreating — and  finally  overborne. 

For  Marsham's  staying  powers,  naturally,  were  the 
greater.  He  summoned  finally  all  his  nerve  and  all  his 
knowledge.  The  air  of  the  carpet-knight  with  which  he 
had  opened  battle  disappeared;  he  fought  seriously  and 
for  victory.  And  suddenly  Diana  laughed — a  little  hys- 
terically— and  gave  in.  He  had  carried  her  into  regions 
of  history  and  politics  where  she  could  not  follow.  She 
dropped  her  head  in  her  hands  a  moment — then  fell 
back  in  her  chair — silenced — her  beautiful  passionate 
eyes  fixed  on  Marsham,  as  his  were  on  her. 

"Brava!  Brava!"  cried  Mr.  Ferrier,  clapping  his 
hands.  The  room  joined  in  laughter  and  applause. 

A  few  minutes  later  the  ladies  streamed  out  into  the 
hall  on  their  way  to  bed.  Marsham  came  to  light  a 
candle  for  Diana. 

"Do  you  forgive  me?"  he  said,  as  he  gave  it  to  her. 

The  tone  was  gay  and  apologetic. 

She  laughed  unsteadily,  without  reply. 

"  When  will  you  take  your  revenge  ?" 

She  shook  her  head,  touched  his  hand  for  "good- 
night," and  went  up-stairs. 

As  Diana  reached  her  room  she  drew  Mrs.  Colwood 
in  with  her — but  not,  it  seemed,  for  purposes  of  conversa- 
tion. She  stood  absently  by  the  fire  taking  off  her 
bracelets  and  necklace.  Mrs.  Colwood  made  a  few 
remarks  about  the  evening  and  the  guests,  with  little 
response,  and  presently  wondered  why  she  was  detained. 

70 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

At  last  Diana  put  up  her  hands,  and  smoothed  back  the 
hair  from  her  temples  with  a  long  sigh.  Then  she  laid  a 
sudden  grasp  upon  Mrs.  Colwood,  and  looked  earnestly 
and  imploringly  into  her  face. 

"  Will  you — please — call  me  Diana  ?  And — and — will 
you  kiss  me  ?" 

She  humbly  stooped  her  head.  Mrs.  Colwood,  much 
touched,  threw  her  arms  around  her,  and  kissed  her 
heartily.  Then  a  few  warm  words  fell  from  her — as  to 
the  scene  of  the  evening.  Diana  withdrew  herself  at 
once,  shivering  a  little. 

"  Oh,  I  want  papa!"  she  said — "  I  want  him  so  much!" 

And  she  hid  her  eyes  against  the  mantel-piece. 

Mrs.  Colwood  soothed  her  affectionately,  perhaps  ex- 
pecting some  outburst  of  confidence,  which,  however,  did 
not  come.  Diana  said  a  quiet  "good-night,"  and  they 
parted. 

But  it  was  long  before  Mrs.  Colwood  could  sleep. 
Was  the  emotion  she  had  just  witnessed — flinging  itself 
geyserlike  into  sight,  only  to  sink  back  as  swiftly  out  of 
ken — was  it  an  effect  of  the  past  or  an  omen  of  the 
future?  The  longing  expressed  in  the  girl's  heart  and 
voice,  after  the  brave  show  she  had  made — had  it  over- 
powered her  just  because  she  felt  herself  alone,  without 
natural  protectors,  on  the  brink  of  her  woman's  des- 
tiny ? 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  next  day,  when  Diana  looked  out  from  her 
window,  she  saw  a  large  and  dreary  park  wrapped 
in  scudding  rain  which  promised  evil  things  for  the  shoot- 
ing -  party  of  the  day.  Mr.  Marsham  senior  had  ap- 
parently laid  out  his  park  and  grounds  on  the  same 
principles  as  those  on  which  he  had  built  his  house. 
Everything  was  large  and  expensive.  The  woods  and 
plantations  were  kept  to  a  nicety;  not  a  twig  was  out  of 
place.  Enormous  cost  had  been  incurred  in  the  plant- 
ing of  rare  evergreens ;  full-grown  trees  had  been  trans- 
planted wholesale  from  a  distance,  and  still  wore  in  many 
cases  a  sickly  and  invalided  air ;  and  elaborate  contrasts 
in  dark  and  light  foliage  had  been  arranged  by  the  land- 
scape -  gardener  employed.  Dark  plantations  had  a 
light  border — light  plantatons  a  dark  one.  A  lake  or 
large  pond,  with  concrete  banks  and  two  artificial  islands, 
held  the  centre  of  the  park,  and  on  the  monotonous 
stretches  of  immaculate  grass  there  were  deer  to  be 
seen  wherever  anybody  could  reasonably  expect  them. 
Diana  surveyed  it  all  with  a  lively  dislike.  She  pitied 
Lady  Lucy  and  Mr.  Marsham  because  they  must  live  in 
such  a  place.  Especially,  surely,  must  it  be  hampering 
and  disconcerting  to  a  man,  preaching  the  democratic 
gospel,  and  looking  forward  to  the  democratic  millen- 
nium, to  be  burdened  with  a  house  and  estate  which 
could  offer  so  few  excuses  for  the  wealth  of  which  they 

72 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

made  an  arrogant  and  uninviting  display.  Immense 
possessions  and  lavish  expenditure  may  be,  as  we  all 
know,  so  softened  by  antiquity,  or  so  masked  by  taste,  as 
not  to  jar  with  ideals  the  most  different  or  remote.  But 
here  "proputty!  proputty!"  was  the  cry  of  every  ugly 
wood  and  tasteless  shrubbery,  whereas  the  prospective 
owner  of  them,  according  to  his  public  utterances  and 
career,  was  magnificently  careless  of  property — was,  in 
fact,  in  the  eyes  of  the  lovers  of  property,  its  enemy. 
The  house  again  spoke  loudly  and  aggressively  of  money ; 
yet  it  was  the  home  of  a  champion  of  the  poor. 

Well — a  man  cannot  help  it,  if  his  father  has  suffered 
from  stupidity  and  bad  taste ;  and  encumbrances  of  this 
kind  are  more  easily  created  than  got  rid  of.  No  doubt 
Oliver  Marsham's  democratic  opinions  had  been  partly 
bred  in  him  by  opposition  and  recoil.  Diana  seemed  to 
get  a  good  deal  of  rather  comforting  light  on  the  problem 
by  looking  at  it  from  this  point  of  view. 

Indeed,  she  thought  over  it  persistently  while  she 
dressed.  From  the  normal  seven-hours'  sleep  of  youth 
she  had  awakened  with  braced  nerves.  To  remember 
her  duel  of  the  night  before  was  no  longer  to  thrill  with 
an  excitement  inexplicable  even  to  herself,  and  strangely 
mingled  with  a  sense  of  loneliness  or  foreboding.  Under 
the  morning  light  she  looked  at  things  more  sanely.  Her 
natural  vanity,  which  was  the  reflection  of  her  wish  to 
please,  told  her  that  she  had  not  done  badly.  She  felt  a 
childish  pleasure  in  the  memory  of  Mr.  Barton's  dis- 
comfiture; and  as  to  Mr.  Marsham,  it  was  she,  and  not 
her  beliefs,  not  the  great  Imperial  "cause"  which  had 
been  beaten.  How  could  she  expect  to  hold  her  own 
with  the  professional  politician  when  it  came  really  to 
business?  In  her  heart  of  hearts  she  knew  that  she 
6  73 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

would  have  despised  Oliver  Marsham  if  he  had  not  been 
able  to  best  her  in  argument.  "If  it  had  been  papa," 
she  thought,  proudly,  "that  would  have  been  another 
story!" 

Nevertheless,  as  she  sat  meekly  under  the  hands  of 
her  maid,  smiles  "went  out  and  in,"  as  she  remembered 
the  points  where  she  had  pressed  him  hard,  had  almost 
overcome  him.  An  inclination  to  measure  herself  with 
him  again  danced  within  her.  Will  against  will,  mind 
against  mind — her  temperament,  in  its  morning  rally, 
delighted  in  the  thought.  And  all  the  time  there  hovered 
before  her  the  living  man,  with  his  agreeable,  energetic, 
challenging  presence.  How  much  better  she  had  liked 
him,  even  in  his  victory  of  the  evening,  than  in  the 
carping  sarcastic  mood  of  the  afternoon ! 

In  spite  of  gayety  and  expectation,  however,  she  felt  her 
courage  fail  her  a  little  as  she  left  her  room  and  ventured 
out  into  the  big  populous  house.  Her  solitary  bringing- 
up  had  made  her  liable  to  fits  of  shyness  amid  her  general 
expansiveness,  and  it  was  a  relief  to  meet  no  one — least 
of  all,  Alicia  Drake — on  her  way  down-stairs.  Mrs.  Col- 
wood,  indeed,  was  waiting  for  her  at  the  end  of  the  pas- 
sage, and  Diana  held  her  hand  a  little  as  they  descended. 

A  male  voice  was  speaking  in  the  hall — Mr.  Marsham 
giving  the  last  directions  for  the  day  to  the  head  keeper. 
The  voice  was  sharp  and  peremptory — too  peremptory, 
one  might  have  thought,  for  democracy  addressing  a 
brother.  But  the  keeper,  a  gray-haired,  weather-beaten 
man  of  fifty,  bowed  himself  out  respectfully,  and  Mar- 
sham  turned  to  greet  Diana.  Mrs.  Colwood  saw  the 
kindling  of  his  eyes  as  they  fell  on  the  girl's  morning 
freshness.  No  sharpness  in  the  voice  now! — he  was  all 
eagerness  to  escort  and  serve  his  guests. 

74 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

He  led  them  to  the  breakfast-room,  which  seemed  to 
be  in  an  uproar,  caused  apparently  by  Bobbie  Forbes 
and  Lady  Niton,  who  were  talking  at  each  other  across 
the  table. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  asked  Diana,  as  she  slipped 
into  a  place  to  which  Sir  James  Chide  smilingly  invited 
her — between  himself  and  Mr.  Bobbie. 

Sir  James,  making  a  pretence  of  shutting  his  ears 
against  the  din,  replied  that  he  believed  Mr.  Forbes  was 
protesting  against  the  tyranny  of  Lady  Niton  in  obliging 
him  to  go  to  church. 

"  She  never  enters  a  place  of  worship  herself,  but  she 
insists  that  her  young  men  friends  shall  go. — Mr.  Bobbie 
is  putting  his  foot  down!"  ;-^r 

"  Miss  Mallory,  let  me  get  you  some  fish,"  said  Forbes, 
turning  to  her  with  a  flushed  and  determined  counte- 
nance. "  I  have  now  vindicated  the  rights  of  man,  and 
am  ready  to  attend — if  you  will  allow  me — to  the  wants 
of  woman.  Fish? — or  bacon?" 

Diana  made  her  choice,  and  the  young  man  supplied 
her;  then  bristling  with  victory,  and  surrounded  by 
samples  of  whatever  food  the  breakfast-table  afforded,  he 
sat  down  to  his  own  meal.  "No!"  he  said,  with  energy, 
addressing  Diana.  "One  must  really  draw  the  line. 
The  last  Sunday  Lady  Niton  took  me  to  church,  the 
service  lasted  an  hour  and  three-quarters.  I  am  a  High 
Churchman — I  vow  I  am — an  out-and-outer.  I  go  in 
for  snippets — and  shortening  things.  The  man  here  is 
a  dreadful  old  Erastian — piles  on  everything  you  can 
pile  on — so  I  just  felt  it  necessary  to  give  Lady  Niton 
notice.  To-morrow  I  have  work  for  the  department — 
at  home!  Take  my  advice,  Miss  Mallory — don't  go." 

"I'm  not  staying  over  Sunday,"  smiled  Diana. 

75 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

The  young  man  expressed  his  regret.  "I  say,"  he 
said,  with  a  quick  look  round,  "  you  didn't  think  I  was 
rude  last  night,  did  you?" 

"Rude?     When?" 

"In  not  listening.  I  can't  listen  when  people  talk 
politics.  I  want  to  drown  myself.  Now,  if  it  was  poetry 
— or  something  reasonable.  You  know  the  only  things 
worth  looking  at — in  this  beastly  house" — he  lowered 
his  voice — "  are  the  books  in  that  glass  bookcase.  It 
was  Lady  Lucy's  father — old  Lord  Merston — collect- 
ed them.  Lady  Lucy  never  looks  at  them.  Marsham 
does,  I  suppose — sometimes.  Do  you  know  Marsham 
well  ?" 

"  I  made  acquaintance  with  him  and  Lady  Lucy  on 
the  Riviera." 

Mr.  Bobbie  observed  her  with  a  shrewd  eye.  In  spite 
of  his  inattention  of  the  night  before,  the  interest  of  Miss 
Mallory's  appearance  upon  the  scene  at  Tallyn  had  not 
been  lost  upon  him,  any  more  than  upon  other  people. 
The  rumor  had  preceded  her  arrival  that  Marsham  had 
been  very  much  "  smitten  "  with  her  amid  the  pine  woods 
of  Portofino.  Marsham's  taste  was  good — emphatically 
good.  At  the  same  time  it  was  clear  that  the  lady  was 
no  mere  facile  and  commonplace  girl.  It  was  Forbes's 
opinion,  based  on  the  scene  of  the  previous  evening,  that 
there  might  be  a  good  deal  of  wooing  to  be  done. 

"There  are  so  many  things  I  wanted  to  show  you — 
and  to  talk  about!"  said  Oliver  Marsham,  confidentially, 
to  Diana,  in  the  hall  after  breakfast — "but  this  horrid 
shoot  will  take  up  all  the  day!  If  the  weather  is  not  too 
bad,  I  think  some  of  the  ladies  meant  to  join  us  at 
luncheon.  Will  you  venture?" 

76 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

His  tone  was  earnest;  his  eyes  indorsed  it.  Diana 
hoped  it  might  be  possible  to  come.  Marsham  lingered 
beside  her  to  the  last  minute;  but  presently  final  orders 
had  to  be  given  to  keepers,  and  country  neighbors  began 
to  arrive. 

"They  do  the  thing  here  on  an  enormous  scale,"  said 
Bobbie  Forbes,  lounging  and  smoking  beside  Diana;  "  it's 
almost  the  biggest  shoot  in  the  county.  Amusing,  isn't 
it? — in  this  Radical  house.  Do  you  see  that  man  Mc- 
Ewart?" 

Diana  turned  her  attention  upon  the  young  member 
of  Parliament  who  had  arrived  the  night  before— plain, 
sandy-haired,  with  a  long  flat-backed  head,  and  a  gentle- 
manly manner. 

"  I  suspect  a  good  deal's  going  on  here  behind  the 
scenes,"  said  Bobbie,  dropping  his  voice.  "That  man 
Barton  may  be  a  fool  to  talk,  but  he's  a  great  power  in 
the  House  with  the  other  Labor  men.  And  McEwart 
has  been  hand  and  glove  with  Marsham  all  this  Session. 
They're  trying  to  force  Ferrier's  hand.  Some  Bill  the 
Labor  men  want — and  Ferrier  won't  hear  of.  A  good 
many  people  say  we  shall  see  Marsham  at  the  head  of 
a  Fourth  Party  of  his  own  very  soon.  Se  soumettre,  ou  se 
demettre! — well,  it  may  come  to  that — for  old  Ferrier. 
But  I'll  back  him  to  fight  his  way  through." 

"How  can  Mr.  Marsham  oppose  him?"  asked  Diana, 
in  wonder,  and  some  indignation  with  her  companion. 
"  He  is  the  Leader  of  the  party,  and  besides — they  are 
such  friends!" 

Forbes  looked  rather  amused  at  her  womanish  view  of 
things.  "Friends?  I  should  rather  think  so!" 

By  this  time  he  and  Diana  were  strolling  up  and  down 
the  winter  garden  opening  out  of  the  hall,  which  was  now 

77 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

full  of  a  merry  crowd  waiting  for  the  departure  of  the 
shooters.  Suddenly  Forbes  paused. 

"Do  you  see  that?" 

Diana's  eyes  followed  his  till  they  perceived  Lady 
Lucy  sitting  a  little  way  off  under  a  camellia-tree  covered 
with  red  blossom.  Her  lap  was  heaped  with  the  letters 
(of  the  morning.  Mr.  Ferrier,  with  a  cigarette  in  his 
mouth,  stood  beside  her,  reading  the  sheets  of  a  letter 
which  she  handed  to  him  as  she  herself  finished  them. 
Every  now  and  then  she  spoke  to  him,  and  he  replied. 
In  the  little  scene,  between  the  slender  white-haired 
woman  and  the  middle-aged  man,  there  was  something 
so  intimate,  so  conjugal  even,  that  Diana  involuntarily 
turned  away  as  though  to  watch  it  were  an  impertinence. 

"Rather  touching,  isn't  it?"  said  the  youth,  smiling 
benevolently.  "Of  course  you  know — there's  a  ro- 
mance, or  rather  was — long  ago.  My  mother  knew  all 
about  it.  Since  old  Marsham's  death,  Lady  Lucy's 
never  done  a  thing  without  Ferrier  to  advise  her.  Why 
she  hasn't  married  him,  that's  the  puzzle. — But  she's  a 
curious  woman,  is  Lady  Lucy.  Looks  so  soft,  but — " 
He  pursed  up  his  lips  with  an  important  air. 

"Anyhow,  she  depends  a  lot  on  Ferrier.  He's  con- 
stantly here  whenever  he  can  be  spared  from  London  and 
Parliament.  He  got  Oliver  into  Parliament — his  first 
seat  I  mean — for  Manchester.  The  Ferriers  are  very  big 
people  up  there,  and  old  Ferrier's  recommendation  of 
him  just  put  him  in  straight — no  trouble  about  it!  Oh! 
and  before  that  when  he  was  at  Eton — and  Oxford  too 
—Ferrier  looked  after  him  like  a  father. — Used  to  have 
him  up  for  exeats — and  talk  to  the  Head — and  keep  his 
mother  straight — like  an  old  brick,  Ferrier's  a  splendid 
Chap!" 

78 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mai  lory 

Diana  warmly  agreed. 

"Perhaps  you  know,"  pursued  the  chatterbox, 
"  that  this  place  is  all  hers — Lady  Lucy's.  She  can  leave 
it  and  her  money  exactly  as  she  pleases.  It  is  to  be 
hoped  she  won't  leave  much  of  it  to  Mrs.  Fotheringham. 
Isn't  that  a  woman!  Ah!  you  don't  know  her  yet. 
Hullo! — there's  Marsham  after  me." 

For  Marsham  was  beckoning  from  the  hall.  They 
returned  hurriedly. 

"Who  made  Oliver  that  waistcoat?"  said  Lady  Niton, 
putting  on  her  spectacles. 

"  I  did,"  said  Alicia  Drake,  as  she  came  up,  with  her 
arm  round  the  younger  of  Lady  Niton's  nieces.  "  Isn't 
it  becoming?" 

"Hum!"  said  Lady  Niton,  in  a  gruff  tone,  "young 
ladies  can  always  find  new  ways  of  wasting  their  time." 

Marsham  approached  Diana. 

"We're  just  off,"  he  said,  smiling.  "The  clouds  are 
lifting.  You'll  come?" 

"  What,  to  lunch  ?"  said  Lady  Niton,  just  behind.  "  Of 
course  they  will.  What  else  is  there  for  the  women  to 
do?  Congratulate  you  on  your  waistcoat,  Oliver." 

"Isn't  it  superb?"  he  said,  drawing  himself  up  with 
mock  majesty,  so  as  to  show  it  off.  "I  am  Alicia's 
debtor  for  life." 

Yet  a  careful  ear  might  have  detected  something  a 
little  hollow  in  the  tone. 

Lady  Niton  looked  at  him,  and  then  at  Miss  Drake, 
evidently  restraining  her  sharp  tongue  for  once,  though 
with  difficulty.  Marsham  lingered  a  moment  making 
some  last  arrangements  for  the  day  with  his  sister. 
Diana  noticed  that  he  towered  over  the  men  among 
whom  he  stood;  and  she  felt  herself  suddenly  delighting 

79 


The   Testing   of    Diana    Mallory 

in  his  height,  in  his  voice  which  was  remarkably  refined 
and  agreeable,  in  his  whole  capable  and  masterful  pres- 
ence. Bobbie  Forbes  standing  beside  him  was  dwarfed 
to  insignificance,  and  he  seemed  to  be  conscious  of  it, 
for  he  rose  on  his  toes  a  little,  involuntarily  copying 
Marsham's  attitude,  and  looking  up  at  him. 

As  the  shooters  departed,  Forbes  bringing  up  the  rear, 
Lady  Niton  laid  her  wrinkled  hand  on  his  arm. 

"Never  mind,  Bobbie,  never  mind!" — she  smiled  at 
him  confidentially.  "We  can't  all  be  six  foot." 

Bobbie  stared  at  her — first  fiercely — then  exploded 
with  laughter,  shook  off  her  hand  and  departed. 

Lady  Niton,  evidently  much  pleased  with  herself, 
came  back  to  the  window  where  most  of  the  other  ladies 
stood  watching  the  shooters  with  their  line  of  beaters 
crossing  the  lawn  toward  the  park  beyond.  "Ah!" 
she  said,  "  I  thought  Alicia  would  see  the  last  of 
them!" 

For  Miss  Drake,  in  defiance  of  wind  and  spitting  rain, 
was  walking  over  the  lawn  the  centre  of  a  large  group, 
with  Marsham  beside  her.  Her  white  serge  dress  and  the 
blue  shawl  she  had  thrown  over  her  fair  head  made  a 
brilliant  spot  in  the  dark  wavering  line. 

"  Alicia  is  very  picturesque,"  said  Mrs.  Fotheringham, 
turning  away. 

"Yes — and  last  summer  Oliver  seemed  to  be  well 
aware  of  it,"  said  Lady  Niton,  in  her  ear. 

"Was  he?  He  has  always  been  very  good  friends 
with  Alicia." 

"  He  could  have  done  without  the  waistcoat,"  said 
Lady  Niton,  sharply. 

"Aren't  you  rather  unkind?  She  began  it  last  sum- 
mer, and  finished  it  yesterday.  Then,  of  course,  she 

80 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

presented  it  to  him.     I  don't  see  why  that  should  ex- 
pose her  to  remarks." 

"One  can't  help  making  remarks  about  Alicia,"  said 
Lady  Niton,  calmly,  "  and  she  can  defend  herself  so  well." 

"Poor  Alicia!" 

"Confess  you  wouldn't  like  Oliver  to  marry  her." 

"  Oliver  never  had  any  thought  of  it." 

Lady  Niton  shook  her  queer  gray  head. 

"Oliver  paid  her  a  good  deal  of  attention  last  sum- 
mer. Alicia  must  certainly  have  considered  the  matter. 
And  she  is  a  young  lady  not  easily  baffled." 

"Baffled!"  Mrs.  Fotheringham  laughed.  "What  can 
she  do?" 

"  Well,  it's  true  that  Oliver  seems  to  have  got  another 
idea  in  his  head.  What  do  you  think  of  that  pretty 
child  who  came  yesterday — the  Mallory  girl?" 

Mrs.  Fotheringham  hesitated,  then  said,  coldly : 

"  I  don't  like  discussing  these  things.  Oliver  has 
plenty  of  time  before  him." 

"If  he  is  turning  his  thoughts  in  that  quarter," 
persisted  Lady  Niton,  "  I  give  him  my  blessing.  Well 
bred,  handsome,  and  well  off — what's  your  objection?" 

Mrs.  Fotheringham  laughed  impatiently.  "  Really, 
Lady  Niton,  I  made  no  objection." 

"You  don't  like  her!" 

"  I  have  only  known  her  twenty-four  hours.  How 
can  I  have  formed  any  opinion  about  her?" 

"  No — you  don't  like  her!  I  suppose  you  thought  she 
talked  stuff  last  night?" 

"  Well,  there  can  be  no  two  opinions  about  that!"  cried 
Mrs.  Fotheringham.  "  Her  father  seems  to  have  filled 
her  head  with  all  sorts  of  false  Jingo  notions,  and  I  must 
say  I  wondered  Oliver  was  so  patient  with  her," 

8? 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

Lady  Niton  glanced  at  the  thin  fanatical  face  of  the 
speaker. 

"Oliver  had  great  difficulty  in  holding  his  own.  She 
is  no  fool,  and  you'll  find  it  out,  Isabel,  if  you  try  to 
argue  her  down — 

"I  shouldn't  dream  of  arguing  with  such  a  child!" 

"  Well,  all  I  know  is  Ferrier  seemed  to  admire  her  per- 
formance." 

Mrs.  Fotheringham  paused  a  moment,  then  said,  with 
harsh  intensity : 

"Men  have  not  the  same  sense  of  responsibility." 

"You  mean  their  brains  are  befogged  by  a  pretty 
face?" 

"They  don't  put  non-essentials  aside,  as  we  do.  A 
girl  like  that,  in  love  with  what  she  calls  'glory'  and 
'prestige,'  is  a  dangerous  and  demoralizing  influence. 
That  glorification  of  the  Army  is  at  the  root  of  half  our 
crimes'" 

Mrs.  Fotheringham's  pale  skin  had  flushed  till  it 
made  one  red  with  her  red  hair.  Lady  Niton  looked  at 
her  with  mingled  amusement  and  irritation.  She  won- 
dered why  men  married  such  women  as  Isabel  Fothering- 
ham. Certainly  Ned  Fotheringham  himself — deceased 
some  three  years  before  this  date — had  paid  heavily  for 
his  mistake;  especially  through  the  endless  disputes 
which  had  arisen  between  his  children  and  his  second  wife 
— partly  on  questions  of  religion,  partly  on  this  matter  of 
the  Army.  Mrs.  Fotheringham  was  an  agnostic ;  her  step- 
sons, the  children  of  a  devout  mother,  were  churchmen. 
Influenced,  moreover,  by  a  small  coterie,  in  which,  to  the 
dismay  of  her  elderly  husband,  she  had  passed  most 
of  her  early  married  years,  she  detested  the  Army  as 
a  brutal  influence  on  the  national  life.  Her  youngest 

82 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

step-son,  however,  had  insisted  on  becoming  a  soldier. 
She  broke  with  him,  and  with  his  brothers  who  supported 
him.  Now  a  childless  widow,  without  ties  and  moderate- 
ly rich,  she  was  free  to  devote  herself  to  her  ideas.  In 
former  days  she  would  have  been  a  religious  bigot  of  the 
first  water;  the  bigotry  was  still  there;  only  the  subjects 
of  it  were  changed. 

Lady  Niton  delighted  in  attacking  her;  yet  was  not 
without  a  certain  respect  for  her.  Old  sceptic  that  she 
was,  ideals  of  any  sort  imposed  upon  her.  How  people 
came  by  them,  she  herself  could  never  imagine. 

On  this  particular  morning,  however,  Mrs.  Fothering- 
ham  did  not  allow  herself  as  long  a  wrangle  as  usual 
with  her  old  adversary.  She  went  off,  carrying  an  arm- 
ful of  letters  with  large  enclosures,  and  Lady  Niton 
understood  that  for  the  rest  of  the  morning  she  would  be 
as  much  absorbed  by  her  correspondence — mostly  on 
public  questions — as  the  Leader  of  the  Opposition  him- 
self, to  whom  the  library  was  sacredly  given  up. 

"When  that  woman  takes  a  dislike,"  she  thought  to 
herself,  "it  sticks!  She  has  taken  a  dislike  to  the  Mai- 
lory  girl.  Well,  if  Oliver  wants  her,  let  him  fight  for  her. 
I  hope  she  won't  drop  into  his  mouth!  Mallory!  Mai- 
lory!  I  wonder  where  she  comes  from,  and  who  her 
people  are." 

Meanwhile  Diana  was  sitting  among  her  letters,  which 
mainly  concerned  the  last  details  of  the  Beechcote 
furnishing.  She  and  Mrs.  Colwood  were  now  "Muriel" 
and  "  Diana"  to  each  other,  and  Mrs.  Colwood  had  been 
admitted  to  a  practical  share  in  Diana's  small  anxieties. 

Suddenly  Diana,  who  had  just  opened  a  hitherto 
unread  letter,  exclaimed : 

83 


The    Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

"Oh,  but  haw  delightful!" 

Mrs.  Colwood  looked  up;  Diana's  aspect  was  one  of 
sparkling  pleasure  and  surprise. 

"  One  of  my  Barbadoes'  cousins  is  here — in  London — 
actually  in  London — and  I  knew  nothing  of  her  coming. 
She  writes  to  me. — Of  course  she  must  come  to  Beech- 
cote — she  must  come  at  once!" 

She  sprang  up,  and  went  to  a  writing-table  near,  to 
look  for  a  telegraph  form.  She  wrote  a  message  with 
eagerness,  despatched  it,  and  then  explained  as  coherent- 
ly as  her  evident  emotion  and  excitement  would  allow. 

QThey  are  my  only  relations  in  the  world — that  I 
know  of — that  papa  ever  spoke  to  me  about.  Mamma's 
sister  married  Mr.  Merton.  He  was  a  planter  in  Bar- 
badoes. He  died  about  three  years  ago,  but  his  widow 
and  daughters  have  lived  on  there.  They  were  very  poor 
and  couldn't  afford  to  come  home.  Fanny  is  the  eld- 
est— I  think  she  must  be  about  twenty." 

Diana  paced  up  and  down,  with  her  hands  behind 
her,  wondering  when  her  telegram  would  reach  her 
cousin,  who  was  staying  at  a  London  boarding-house, 
when  she  might  be  expected  at  Beechcote,  how  long  she 
could  be  persuaded  to  stay — speculations,  in  fact,  in- 
numerable. Her  agitation  was  pathetic  in  Mrs.  Col- 
wood's  eyes.  It  testified  to  the  girl's  secret  sense  of 
forlornness,  to  her  natural  hunger  for  the  ties  and  re- 
lationships other  girls  possessed  in  such  abundance. 

Mrs.  Colwood  inquired  if  it  was  long  since  she  had 
had  news  of  her  cousins. 

"  Oh,  some  years!"  said  Diana,  vaguely.  "  I  remember 
a  letter  coming — before  we  went  to  the  East — and  papa 
reading  it.  I  know" — she  hesitated — "  I  know  he  didn't 
like  Mr.  Merton." 

84 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

She  stood  still  a  moment,  thinking.  The  lights  and 
shadows  of  reviving  memory  crossed  her  face,  and 
presently  her  thought  emerged,  with  very  little  hint  to  her 
companion  of  the  course  it  had  been  taking  out  of  sight. 

"  Papa  always  thought  it  a  horrid  life  for  them — 
Aunt  Merton  and  the  girls — especially  after  they  gave  up 
their  estate  and  came  to  live  in  the  town.  But  how 
could  they  help  it?  They  must  have  been  very  poor. 
Fanny" — she  took  up  the  letter — "Fanny  says  she  has 
come  home  to  learn  music  and  French — that  she  may 
earn  money  by  teaching  when  she  goes  back.  She  doesn't 
write  very  well,  does  she?" 

She  held  out  the  sheet. 

The  handwriting,  indeed,  was  remarkably  illiterate, 
and  Mrs.  Colwood  could  only  say  that  probably  a  girl  of 
Miss  Merton's  circumstances  had  had  few  advantages. 

"But  then,  you  see,  we'll  give  her  advantages!"  cried 
Diana,  throwing  herself  down  at  Mrs.  Colwood' s  feet,  and 
beginning  to  plan  aloud. — "You  know  if  she  will  only 
stay  with  us,  we  can  easily  have  people  down  from 
London  for  lessons.  And  she  can  have  the  green  bed- 
room— over  the  dining-room — can't  she  ? — and  the  libra- 
ry to  practise  in.  It  would  be  absurd  that  she  should 
stay  in  London,  at  a  horrid  boarding-house,  when  there's 
Beechcote,  wouldn't  it?" 

Mrs.  Colwood  agreed  that  Beechcote  would  probably 
be  quite  convenient  for  Miss  Merton's  plans.  If  she  felt 
a  little  pang  at  the  thought  that  her  pleasant  tete-a-tete 
with  her  new  charge  was  to  be  so  soon  interrupted,  and 
for  an  indefinite  period,  by  a  young  lady  with  the  hand- 
writing of  a  scullery-maid,  she  kept  it  entirely  hidden. 

Diana  talked  herself  into  the  most  rose-colored  plans 
for  Fanny  Merton's  benefit — so  voluminous,  indeed,  that 

85 


The  Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

Mrs.  Colwood  had  to  leave  her  in  the  middle  of  them 
that  she  might  go  up-stairs  and  mend  a  rent  in  her 
walking-dress.  Diana  was  left  alone  in  the  drawing- 
room,  still  smiling  and  dreaming.  In  her  impulsive 
generosity  she  saw  herself  as  the  earthly  providence  of 
her  cousin,  sharing  with  a  dear  kinswoman  her  own 
unjustly  plentiful  well-being. 

Then  she  took  up  the  letter  again.     It  ran  thus: 

"  MY  DEAR  DIANA, — You  mustn't  think  it  cheeky  my  calling  you 
that,  but  I  am  your  real  cousin,  and  mother  told  me  to  write 
to  you.  I  hope  too  you  won't  be  ashamed  of  us  though  we  are 
poor.  Everybody  knows  us  in  Barbadoes,  though  of  course 
that's  not  London.  I  am  the  eldest  of  the  family,  and  I  got 
very  tired  of  living  all  in  a  pie,  and  so  I've  come  home  to  Eng- 
land to  better  myself. — A  year  ago  I  was  engaged  to  be  married, 
but  the  young  man  behaved  badly.  A  good  riddance,  all  my 
friends  told  me — but  it  wasn't  a  pleasant  experience.  Any- 
way now  I  want  to  earn  some  money,  and  see  the  world  a  little. 
I  have  got  rather  a  good  voice,  and  I  am  considered  handsome — 
at  least  smart-looking.  If  you  are  not  too  grand  to  invite  me 
to  your  place,  I  should  like  to  come  and  see  you,  but  of  course 
you  must  do  as  you  please.  I  got  your  address  from  the  bank 
Uncle  Mallory  used  to  send  us  checks  on.  I  can  tell  you  we 
have  missed  those  checks  pretty  badly  this  last  year.  I  hope 
you  have  now  got  over  your  great  sorrow. — This  boarding- 
house  is  horribly  poky  but  cheap,  which  is  the  great  thing.  I 
arrived  the  night  before  last, 
"And  I  am 

"  Your  affectionate  cousin 

"FANNY  MERTON." 

No,  it  really  was  not  an  attractive  letter.  On  the 
second  reading,  Diana  pushed  it  away  from  her,  rather 
hastily.  Then  she  reminded  herself  again,  elaborately, 
of  the  Mertons'  disadvantages  in  life,  painting  them  in 
imagination  as  black  as  possible.  And  before  she  had 
gone  far  with  this  process  all  doubt  and  distaste  were 

86 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallorg 

once  more  swept  away  by  the  rush  of  yearning,  of  an 
interest  she  could  not  subdue,  in  this  being  of  her  own 
flesh  and  blood,  the  child  of  her  mother's  sister.  She  sat 
with  flushed  cheeks,  absorbed  in  a  stream  of  thoughts 
and  reminiscence. 

"  You  look  as  though  you  had  had  good  news,"  said 
Sir  James  Chide,  as  he  paused  beside  her  on  his  way 
through  the  drawing-room.  He  was  not  a  sportsman; 
nor  was  Mr.  Ferrier. 

His  eyes  rested  upon  her  with  such  a  kind  interest,  his 
manner  showed  so  plainly  yet  again  that  he  desired  to 
be  her  friend,  that  Diana  responded  at  once. 

"  I  have  found  a  cousin!"  she  said,  gayly,  and  told  the 
story  of  her  expected  visitor. 

Outwardly — perfunctorily — Sir  James's  aspect  while 
she  was  speaking  answered  to  hers.  If  she  was  pleased, 
he  was  pleased  too.  He  congratulated  her;  he  entered 
into  her  schemes  for  Miss  Merton's  amusement.  Really, 
all  the  time,  the  man's  aspect  was  singularly  grave, 
he  listened  carefully  to  every  word;  he  observed  the 
speaker. 

"The  young  lady's  mother  is  your  aunt?" 

"  She  was  my  mother's  sister." 

"  And  they  have  been  long  in  Barbadoes?" 

"  I  think  they  migrated  there  just  about  the  same 
time  we  went  abroad — after  my  mother's  death." 

Sir  James  said  little.  He  encouraged  her  to  talk  on; 
he  listened  to  the  phrases  of  memory  or  expectation 
which  revealed  her  history — her  solitary  bringing-up — 
her  reserved  and  scholarly  father — the  singular  close- 
ness, and  yet  as  it  seemed  strangeness  of  her  relation  to 
him.  It  appeared,  for  instance,  that  it  was  only  an 
accident,  some  years  before,  which  had  revealed  to  Diana 

87 


The    Testing    of   Diana   Mallorg 

the  very  existence  of  these  cousins.  Her  father  had  never 
spoken  of  them  spontaneously. 

"  I  hope  she  will  be  everything  that  is  charming  and 
delightful,"  he  said  at  last  as  he  rose.  "  And  remember — 
I  am  to  come  and  see  you!" 

He  stooped  his  gray  head,  and  gently  touched  her 
hand  with  an  old  man's  freedom. 

Diana  warmly  renewed  her  invitation. 

"There  is  a  house  near  you  that  I  often  go  to — Sir 
William  Felton's.  I  am  to  be  there  in  a  few  weeks. 
Perhaps  I  shall  even  be  able  to  make  acquaintance  with 
Miss  Fanny!" 

He  walked  away  from  her. 

Diana  could  not  see  the  instant  change  of  counte- 
nance which  accompanied  the  movement.  Urbanity, 
gentleness,  kind  indulgence  vanished.  Sir  James  looked 
anxious  and  disturbed;  and  he  seemed  to  be  talking  to 
himself. 

The  rest  of  the  morning  passed  heavily.  Diana  wrote 
some  letters,  and  devoutly  hoped  the  rain  would  stop.  In 
the  intervals  of  her  letter- writing,  or  her  study  of  the 
clouds,  she  tried  to  make  friends  with  Miss  Drake  and 
Mrs.  Fotheringham.  But  neither  effort  came  to  good. 
Alicia,  so  expansive,  so  theatrical,  so  much  the  centre  of 
the  situation,  when  she  chose,  could  be  equally  prickly, 
monosyllabic,  and  repellent  when  it  suited  her  to  be 
so.  Diana  talked  timidly  of  dress,  of  London,  and  the 
Season.  They  were  the  subjects  on  which  it  seemed 
most  natural  to  approach  Miss  Drake;  Diana's  attitude 
was  inquiring  and  propitiatory.  But  Alicia  could  find 
none  but  careless  or  scanty  replies  till  Madeleine  Varley 
came  up.  Then  Miss  Drake's  tongue  was  loosened.  To 
her,  as  to  an  equal  and  intimate,  she  displayed  her  expert 

88 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallorg 

knowledge  of  shops  and  modistes,  of  "people"  and  their 
stories.  Diana  sat  snubbed  and  silent,  a  little  provincial 
outsider,  for  whom  "seasons"  are  not  made.  Nor  was  it 
any  better  with  Mrs.  Fotheringham.  At  twelve  o'clock 
that  lady  brought  the  London  papers  into  the  drawing- 
room.  Further  information  had  been  received  from  the 
Afghan  frontier.  The  English  loss  in  the  engagement 
already  reported  was  greater  than  had  been  at  first  sup- 
posed; and  Diana  found  the  name  of  an  officer  she  had 
known  in  India  among  the  dead.  As  she  pondered  the 
telegram,  the  tears  in  her  eyes,  she  heard  Mrs.  Fothering- 
ham describe  the  news  as  "on  the  whole  very  satis- 
factory." The  nation  required  the  lesson.  Whereupon 
Diana's  tongue  was  loosed  and  would  not  be  quieted. 
She  dwelt  hotly  on  the  "sniping,"  the  treacheries,  the 
midnight  murders  which  had  preceded  the  expedition. 
Mrs.  Fotheringham  listened  to  her  with  flashing  looks, 
and  suddenly  she  broke  into  a  denunciation  of  war,  the 
military  spirit,  and  the  ignorant  and  unscrupulous  per- 
sons at  home,  especially  women,  who  aid  and  abet 
politicians  in  violence  and  iniquity,  the  passion  of  which 
soon  struck  Diana  dumb.  Here  was  no  honorable  fight 
of  equal  minds.  She  was  being  punished  for  her  ad- 
vocacy of  the  night  before,  by  an  older  woman  of 
tyrannical  temper,  toward  whom  she  stood  in  the  re- 
lation of  guest  to  host.  It  was  in  vain  to  look  round  for 
defenders.  The  only  man  present  was  Mr.  Barton,  who 
sat  listening  with  ill-concealed  smiles  to  what  was  going 
on,  without  taking  part  in  it. 

Diana  extricated  herself  with  as  much  dignity  as  she 

could  muster,  but  she  was  too  young  to  take  the  matter 

philosophically.    She  went  up-stairs  burning  with  anger, 

the  tears  of  hurt  feeling  in  her  eyes.    It  seemed  to  her 

7  89 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallorij 

that  Mrs.  Fotheringham's  attack  implied  a  personal  dis- 
like; Mr.  Marsham's  sister  had  been  glad  to  "  take  it  out 
of  her."  To  this  young  cherished  creature  it  was  almost 
her  first  experience  of  the  kind. 

On  the  way  up-stairs  she  paused  to  look  wistfully  out 
of  a  staircase  window.  Still  raining — alack !  She  thought 
with  longing  of  the  open  fields,  and  the  shooters.  Was 
there  to  be  no  escape  all  day  from  the  ugly  oppressive 
house,  and  some  of  its  inmates?  Half  shyly,  yet  with 
a  quickening  of  the  heart,  she  remembered  Marsham's 
farewell  to  her  of  that  morning,  his  look  of  the  night 
before.  Intellectually,  she  was  comparatively  mature ;  in 
other  respects,  as  inexperienced  and  impressionable  as 
any  convent  girl. 

"I  fear  luncheon  is  impossible!"  said  Lady  Lucy's 
voice. 

Diana  looked  up  and  saw  her  descending  the  stairs. 

"Such  a  pity!     Oliver  will  be  so  disappointed." 

She  paused  beside  her  guest — an  attractive  and  dis- 
tinguished figure.  On  her  white  hair  she  wore  a  lace 
cap  which  was  tied  very  precisely  under  her  delicate 
chin.  Her  dress,  of  black  satin,  was  made  in  a  full  plain 
fashion  of  her  own;  she  had  long  since  ceased  to  allow 
her  dressmaker  any  voice  in  it;  and  her  still  beautiful 
hands  flashed  with  diamonds,  not  however  in  any  vulgar 
profusion.  Lady  Lucy's  mother  had  been  of  a  Quaker 
family,  and  though  Quakerism  in  her  had  been  deeply 
alloyed  with  other  metals,  the  moral  and  intellectual 
self-dependence  of  Quakerism,  its  fastidious  reserves  and 
discrimination  were  very  strong  in  her.  Discrimination 
indeed  was  the  note  of  her  being.  For  every  Christian, 
some  Christian  precepts  are  obsolete.  For  Lady  Lucy 
that  which  runs — "Judge  Not!" — had  never  been  alive. 

90 


The    Testing    of   Diana   Mallorg 

Her  emphatic  reference  to  Marsham  had  brought  the 
ready  color  to  Diana's  cheeks. 

"Yes — there  seems  no  chance!—"  she  said,  shyly,  and 
regretfully,  as  the  rain  beat  on  the  window. 

"Oh,  dear  me,  yes!"  said  a  voice  behind  them.  "The 
glass  is  going  up.  It  '11  be  a  fine  afternoon — and  we'll 
go  and  meet  them  at  Holme  Copse.  Sha'n't  we,  Lady 
Lucy?" 

Mr.  Ferrier  appeared,  coming  up  from  the  library 
laden  with  papers.  The  three  stood  chatting  together  on 
the  broad  gallery  which  ran  round  the  hall.  The  kindness 
of  the  two  elders  was  so  marked  that  Diana's  spirits 
returned;  she  was  not  to  be  quite  a  pariah  it  seemed! 
As  she  walked  away  toward  her  room,  Mr.  Ferrier 's  eyes 
pursued  her — the  slim  round  figure,  the  young  loveliness 
of  her  head  and  neck. 

"Well! — what  are  you  thinking  about  her?"  he  said, 
eagerly,  turning  to  the  mistress  of  the  house. 

Lady  Lucy  smiled. 

"  I  should  prefer  it  if  she  didn't  talk  politics,"  she  said, 
with  the  slightest  possible  stiffness.  "But  she  seems  a 
very  charming  girl." 

"  She  talks  politics,  my  dear  lady,  because  living  alone 
with  her  father  and  with  her  books,  she  has  had  nothing 
else  to  talk  about  but  politics  and  books.  Would  you 
rather  she  talked  scandal — or  Monte  Carlo?" 

The  Quaker  in  Lady  Lucy  laughed. 

"  Of  course  if  she  married  Oliver,  she  would  subordinate 
her  opinions  to  his." 

"Would  she!"  said  Mr.  Ferrier — "  I'm  not  so  sure!" 

Lady  Lucy  replied  that  if  not,  it  would  be  calamitous. 
In  which  she  spoke  sincerely.  For  although  now  the 
ruler,  and,  if  the  truth  were  known,  the  somewhat 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallorg 

despotic  ruler  of  Tallyn,  in  her  husband's  lifetime  she 
had  known  very  well  how  to  obey. 

"I  have  asked  various  people  about  the  Mallorys," 
she  resumed.  "  But  nobody  seems  to  be  able  to  tell  me 
anything." 

"  I  trace  her  to  Sir  Thomas  of  that  ilk.  Why  not  ? 
It  is  a  Welsh  name!" 

"  I  have  no  idea  who  her  mother  was,"  said  Lady  Lucy, 
musing.  "  Her  father  was  very  refined — quite  a  gentle- 
man." 

"  She  bears,  I  think,  very  respectable  witness  to  her 
mother,"  laughed  Ferrier.  "Good  stock  on  both  sides; 
she  carries  it  in  her  face." 

"That's  all  I  ask,"  said  Lady  Lucy,  quietly. 

"But  that  you  do  ask!"  Her  companion  looked  at 
her  with  an  eye  half  affectionate,  half  ironic.  "  Most 
exclusive  of  women!  I  sometimes  wish  I  might  unveil 
your  real  opinions  to  the  Radical  fellows  who  come  here." 

Lady  Lucy  colored  faintly. 

"That  has  nothing  to  do  with  politics." 

"  Hasn't  it  ?  I  can't  imagine  anything  that  has  more 
to  do  with  them." 

"  I  was  thinking  of  character — honorable  tradition — 
not  blood." 

Ferrier  shook  his  head. 

"  Won't  do.  Barton  wouldn't  pass  you — '  A  man's  a 
man  for  a'  that' — and  a  woman  too." 

"Then  I  am  a  Tory!"  said  Lady  Lucy,  with  a  smile 
that  shot  pleasantly  through  her  gray  eyes. 

"At  last  you  confess  it!"  cried  Ferrier,  as  he  carried 
off  his  papers.  But  his  gayety  soon  departed.  He  stood 
awhile  at  the  window  in  his  room,  looking  out  upon  the 
sodden  park — a  rather  gray  and  sombre  figure.  Over  his 

92 


The   Testing    of  Diana   Mallory 

ugly  impressiveness  a  veil  of  weariness  had  dropped. 
Politics  and  the  strife  of  parties,  the  devices  of  enemies 
and  the  dissatisfaction  of  friends — his  soul  was  tired  of 
them.  And  the  emergence  of  this  possible  love-affair — 
for  the  moment,  ardent  and  deep  as  were  the  man's 
affections  and  sympathies,  toward  this  Marsham  house- 
hold, it  did  but  increase  his  sense  of  moral  fatigue,  [if. 
the  flutter  in  the  blood — and  the  long  companionship  of 
equal  love — if  these  were  the  only  things  of  real  value  in 
life — how  had  his  been  worth  living? "7 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  last  covert  had  been  shot,  and  as  Marsham  and 
his  party,  followed  by  scattered  groups  of  beaters, 
turned  homeward  over  the  few  fields  that  separated  them 
from  the  park,  figures  appeared  coming  toward  them  in 
the  rosy  dusk — Mr.  Ferrier  and  Diana  in  front,  with  most 
of  the  other  guests  of  the  house  in  their  train.  There 
was  a  merry  fraternization  between  the  two  parties — a 
characteristic  English  scene,  in  a  characteristic  setting: 
the  men  in  their  tweed  shooting-suits,  some  with  their 
guns  over  their  shoulders,  for  the  most  part  young  and 
tall,  clean-limbed  and  clear-eyed,  the  well-to-do  English- 
man at  his  most  English  moment,  and  brimming  with 
the  joy  of  life ;  the  girls  dressed  in  the  same  tweed  stuffs, 
and  with  the  same  skilled  and  expensive  simplicity,  but 
wearing,  some  of  them,  over  their  cloth  caps,  bright 
veils,  white  or  green  or  blue,  which  were  tied  under  their 
chins,  and  framed  faces  aglow  with  exercise  and  health. 
Marsham's  eyes  flew  to  Diana,  who  was  in  black,  with 
a  white  veil.  Some  of  the  natural  curls  on  her  temples, 
which  reminded  him  of  a  Vandyck  picture,  had  been  a 
little  blown  by  the  wind  across  her  beautiful  brow;  he 
liked  the  touch  of  wildness  that  they  gave;  and  he  was 
charmed  anew  by  the  contrast  between  her  frank  young 
strength,  and  the  wistful  look,  so  full  of  relation  to  all 
about  it,  as  though  seeking  to  understand  and  be  one 
with  it.  He  perceived  too  her  childish  pleasure  in  each 

94 


The  Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

fresh  incident  and  experience  of  the  English  winter, 
which  proved  to  her  anew  that  she  had  come  home ;  and 
he  flattered  himself,  as  he  went  straight  to  her  side,  that 
his  coming  had  at  least  no  dimming  effect  on  the  radi- 
ance that  had  been  there  before. 

"I  believe  you  are  not  pining  for  the  Mediterranean!" 
he  said,  laughing,  as  they  walked  on  together. 

In  a  smiling  silence  she  drew  in  a  great  breath  of  the 
frosty  air  while  her  eyes  ranged  along  the  chalk  down,  on 
the  western  edge  of  which  they  were  walking,  and  then 
over  the  plain  at  their  feet,  the  smoke  wreaths  that  hung 
above  the  villages,  the  western  sky  filled  stormily  with 
the  purples  and  grays  and  crimsons  of  the  sunset,  the 
woods  that  climbed  the  down,  or  ran  in  a  dark  rampart 
along  its  crest. 

"No  one  can  ever  love  it  as  much  as  I  do!" — she 
said  at  last — "  because  I  have  been  an  exile.  That  will 
be  my  advantage  always." 

"Your  compensation — perhaps." 

"Mrs.  Colwood  puts  it  that  way.  Only  I  don't  like 
having  my  grievance  taken  away." 

"  Against  whom  ?" 

"  Ah!  not  against  papa!"  she  said,  hurriedly — " against 
Fate!" 

"  If  you  dislike  being  deprived  of  a  grievance — so  do  I. 
You  have  returned  me  my  Rossetti." 

She  laughed  merrily. 

"  You  made  sure  I  should  lose  or  keep  it?" 

"It  is  the  first  book  that  anybody  has  returned  to 
me  for  years.  I  was  quite  resigned." 

"To  a  damaging  estimate  of  my  character?  Thank 
you  very  much!" 

"I  wonder" — he  said,  in  another  tone — "what  sort 

95 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

of  estimate  you  have  of  my  character  —  false,  or 
true?" 

"Well,  there  have  been  a  great  many  surprises!"  said 
Diana,  raising  her  eyebrows. 

"In  the  matter  of  my  character?" 

"Not  altogether." 

"  My  surroundings  ?  You  mean  I  talked  Radicalism — 
or,  as  you  would  call  it,  Socialism — to  you  at  Portofino, 
and  here  you  find  me  in  the  character  of  a  sporting 
Squire?" 

"I  hear" — she  said,  deliberately  looking  about  her — 
"that  this  is  the  finest  shoot  in  the  county." 

"  It  is.  There  is  no  denying  it.  But,  in  the  first  place, 
it's  my  mother's  shoot,  not  mine — the  estate  is  hers,  not 
mine — and  she  wishes  old  customs  to  be  kept  up.  In  the 
next — well,  of  course,  the  truth  is  that  I  like  it  abomi- 
nably!" 

He  had  thrust  his  cap  into  his  pocket,  and  was  walk- 
ing bareheaded.  In  the  glow  of  the  evening  air  his 
strong  manhood  seemed  to  gain  an  added  force  and 
vitality.  He  moved  beside  her,  magnified  and  haloed, 
as  it  were,  by  the  dusk  and  the  sunset.  Yet  his  effect 
upon  her  was  no  mere  physical  effect  of  good  looks  and 
a  fine  stature.  It  was  rather  the  effect  of  a  personality 
which  strangely  fitted  with  and  evoked  her  own — of  that 
congruity,  indeed,  from  which  all  else  springs. 

She  laughed  at  his  confession. 

"  I  hear  also  that  you  are  the  best  shot  in  the  neigh- 
borhood." 

"Who  has  been  talking  to  you  about  me?"  he  asked, 
with  a  slight  knitting  of  the  brows. 

"Mr.  Ferrier — a  little." 

He  gave  an  impatient  sigh,  so  disproportionate  to  the 

96 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallorg 

tone  of  their  conversation,  that  Diana  looked  at  him  in 
sudden  surprise. 

"  Haven't  you  often  wondered  how  it  is  that  the  very 
people  who  know  you  best  know  you  least?" 

The  question  was  impetuously  delivered.  Diana  re- 
called Mr.  Forbes's  remarks  as  to  dissensions  behind  the 
scenes.  She  stepped  cautiously. 

"I  thought  Mr.  Ferrier  knew  everything!" 

"  I  wish  he  knew  something  about  his  party — and  the 
House  of  Commons!"  cried  Marsham,  as  though  a  passion 
within  leaped  to  the  surface. 

The  startled  eyes  beside  him  beguiled  him  further. 

"  I  didn't  mean  to  say  anything  indiscreet — or  dis- 
loyal," he  said,  with  a  smile,  recovering  himself.  "  It  is 
often  the  greatest  men  who  cling  to  the  old  world — when 
the  new  is  clamoring.  But  the  new  means  to  be  heard 
all  the  same." 

Diana's  color  flashed. 

"  I  would  rather  be  in  that  old  world  with  Mr.  Ferrier 
than  in  the  new  with  Mr.  Barton!" 

"  What  is  the  use  of  talking  of  preferences  ?  The  world 
is  what  it  is — and  will  be  what  it  will  be.  Barton  is  our 
master — Ferrier 's  and  mine.  The.  point  is  to  come  to 
terms,  and  make  the  best  of  it." 

"  No! — the  point  is — to  hold  the  gate! — and  die  on  the 
threshold,  if  need  be." 

'They  had  come  to  a  stile.  Marsham  had  crossed  it, 
and  Diana  mounted.  Her  young  form  showed  sharply 
against  the  west;  he  looked  into  her  eyes,  divided  between 
laughter  and  feeling;  she  gave  him  her  hand.  The  man's 
pulses  leaped  anew.  He  was  naturally  of  a  cool  and 
self-possessed  temperament— \the  life  of  the  brain  much 
stronger  in  him  than  the  life  of  the  senses.  |  But  at  that 

97 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

moment  he  recognized — as  perhaps,  for  the  first  time, 
the  night  before — that  Nature  and  youth  had  him  at  last 
in  grip.  At  the  same  time  the  remembrance  of  a  walk 
over  the  same  ground  that  he  had  taken  in  the  autumn 
with  Alicia  Drake  flashed,  unwelcomed,  into  his  mind. 
It  stirred  a  half-uneasy,  half-laughing  compunction.  He 
could  not  flatter  himself — yet — that  his  cousin  had  for- 
gotten it. 

"What  gate? — and  what  threshold?"  he  asked  Diana, 
as  they  moved  on.  "  If  you  mean  the  gate  of  power — it 
is  too  late.  Democracy  is  in  the  citadel — and  has  run 
up  its  own  flag.  Or  to  take  another  metaphor — the 
Whirlwind  is  in  possession — the  only  question  is  who 
shall  ride  it!" 

Diana  declared  that  the  Socialists  would  ride  it  to  the 
abyss — with  England  on  the  crupper. 

"  Magnificent!"  said  Marsham,  "but  merely  rhetorical. 
Besides — all  that  we  ask,  is  that  Ferrier  should  ride  it. 
Let  him  only  try  the  beast — and  he  will  find  it  tame 
enough." 

"And  if  he  won't?—" 

"Ah,  if  he  won't — "  said  Marsham,  uncertainly,  and 
paused.  In  the  growing  darkness  she  could  no  longer 
see  his  face  plainly.  But  presently  he  resumed,  more 
earnestly  and  simply. 

"Don't  misunderstand  me!  Ferrier  is  our  chief — my 
chief,  above  all — and  one  does  not  even  discuss  whether 
one  is  loyal  to  him.  The  party  owes  him  an  enormous 
debt.  As  for  myself—  He  drew  a  long  breath,  which 
was  again  a  sigh. 

Then  with  a  change  of  manner,  and  in  a  lighter  tone: 
"I  seem  to  have  given  myself  away — to  an  enemy!" 

"Poor  enemy!" 

98 


THE    MAN  S    PULSES    LEAPED    ANEW 


The    Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

He  looked  at  her,  half  laughing,  half  anxious. 

"Tell  me! — last  night — you  thought  me  intolerant — 
overbearing?" 

"I  disliked  being  beaten,"  said  Diana,  candidly;  "es- 
pecially as  it  was  only  my  ignorance  that  was  beaten — 
not  my  cause." 

"Shall  we  begin  again?" 

Through  his  gayety,  however,  a  male  satisfaction  in 
victory  pierced  very  plainly.  Diana  winced  a  little. 

"No,  no!  I  must  go  back  to  Captain  Roughsedge 
first  and  get  some  new  arguments!" 

"Roughsedge!"  he  said,  in  surprise.  "Roughsedge? 
He  never  carried  an  argument  through  in  his  life!" 

Diana  defended  her  new  friend  to  ears  unsympathetic. 
Her  defence,  indeed,  evoked  from  him  a  series  of  the  same 
impatient,  sarcastic  remarks  on  the  subject  of  the  neigh- 
bors as  had  scandalized  her  the  day  before.  She  fired 
up,  and  they  were  soon  in  the  midst  of  another  battle- 
royal,  partly  on  the  merits  of  particular  persons  and 
partly  on  a  more  general  theme — the  advantage  or  dis- 
advantage of  an  optimist  view  of  your  fellow-creat- 
ures. 

Marsham  was,  before  long,  hard  put  to  it  in  argument, 
and  very  delicately  and  discreetly  convicted  of  arrogance 
or  worse.  They  were  entering  the  woods  of  the  park 
when  he  suddenly  stopped  and  said: 

"  Do  you  know  that  you  have  had  a  jolly  good  re- 
venge— pressed  down  and  running  over?" 

Diana  smiled,  and  said  nothing.  She  had  delighted  in 
the  encounter;  so,  in  spite  of  castigation,  had  he.  There 
surged  up  in  him  a  happy  excited  consciousness  of 
quickened  life  and  hurrying  hours.  He  looked  with 
distaste  at  the  nearness  of  the  house;  and  at  the  group 

99 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

of  figures  which  had  paused  in  front  of  them,  waiting  for 
them,  on  the  farther  edge  of  the  broad  lawn. 

"  You  have  convicted  me  of  an  odious,  exclusive, 
bullying  temper — or  you  think  you  have — and  all  you 
will  allow  me  in  the  way  of  victory  is  that  I  got  the  best 
of  it  because  Captain  Roughsedge  wasn't  there!" 

"Not  at  all.     I  respect  your  critical  faculty!" 

"  You  wish  to  hear  me  gush  like  Mrs.  Minchin.  It  is 
simply  astounding  the  number  of  people  you  like!" 

Diana's  laugh  broke  into  a  sigh. 

"  Perhaps  it's  like  a  hungry  boy  in  a  goody-shop.  He 
wants  to  eat  them  all." 

"Were  you  so  very  solitary  as  a  child?"  he  asked  her, 
gently,  in  a  changed  tone,  which  was  itself  an  act  of 
homage,  almost  a  caress. 

"Yes — I  was  very  solitary,"  she  said,  after  a  pause. 
"  And  I  am  really  gregarious — dreadfully  fond  of  people ! 
— and  curious  about  them.  And  I  think,  oddly  enough, 
papa  was  too." 

A  question  rose  naturally  to  his  lips,  but  was  checked 
unspoken.  He  well  remembered  Mr.  Mallory  at  Porto- 
fino;  a  pleasant  courteous  man,  evidently  by  nature  a 
man  of  the  world,  interested  in  affairs  and  in  literature, 
with  all  the  signs  on  him  of  the  English  governing  class. 
It  was  certainly  curious  that  he  should  have  spent  all 
those  years  in  exile  with  his  child,  in  a  remote  villa  on 
the  Italian  coast.  Health,  Marsham  supposed,  or  finance 
—the  two  chief  motives  of  life.  For  himself,  the  thought 
'  of  Diana's  childhood  between  the  pine  woods  and  the  sea 
gave  him  pleasure;  it  added  another  to  the  poetical  and 
romantic  ideas  which  she  suggested.  There  came  back 
on  him  the  plash  of  the  waves  beneath  the  Portofino 
headland,  the  murmur  of  the  pines,  the  fragrance  of  the 

100 


The   Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

underwood.     He  felt  the  kindred  between  all  these,  and 
her  maidenly  energy,  her  unspoiled  be.auty. 

"One  moment!"  he  said,  as  they  began  to  cross  the 
lawn.  "  Has  my  sister  attacked  you  yet?" 

The  smile  with  which  the  words  were  spoken  could  be 
heard  though  not  seen.  Diana  laughed,  a  little  awkwardly. 

"  I  am  afraid  Mrs.  Fotheringham  thinks  me  a  child  of 
blood  and  thunder!  I  am  so  sorry!" 

"  If  she  presses  you  too  hard,  call  me  in.  Isabel  and 
I  understand  each  other." 

Diana  murmured  something  polite. 

Mr.  Frobisher  meanwhile  came  to  meet  them  with  a 
remark  upon  the  beauty  of  the  evening,  and  Alicia  Drake 
followed. 

"  I  expect  you  found  it  a  horrid  long  way,"  she  said  to 
Diana.  Diana  disclaimed  fatigue. 

"  You  came  so  slowly,  we  thought  you  must  be  tired." 

Something  in  the  drawling  manner  and  the  slightly 
insolent  expression  made  the  words  sting.  Diana  hurried 
on  to  Marion  Vincent's  side.  That  lady  was  leaning  on 
a  stick,  and  for  the  first  time  Diana  saw  that  she  was 
slightly  lame.  She  looked  up  with  a  pleasant  smile  and 
greeting ;  but  before  they  could  move  on  across  the  ample 
drive,  Mr.  Frobisher  overtook  them. 

"  Won't  you  take  my  arm?"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice. 

Miss  Vincent  slipped  her  hand  inside  his  arm,  and 
rested  on  him.  He  supported  her  with  what  seemed  to 
Diana  a  tender  carefulness,  his  head  bent  to  hers,  while 
he  talked  and  she  replied. 

Diana  followed,  her  girl's  heart  kindling. 

"Surely! — surely! — they   are   in   love? — engaged?" 

But  no  one  else  appeared  to  take  any  notice  or  made 
any  remark. 

101 


The   Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

Long  did  the  memory  of  the  evening  which  followed 
live  warm  in  the  heart  of  Diana.  It  was  to  her  an  evening 
of  triumph — triumph  innocent,  harmless,  and  complete. 
Her  charm,  her  personality  had  by  now  captured  the 
whole  party,  save  for  an  opposition  of  three — and  the 
three  realized  that  they  had  for  the  moment  no  chance  of 
influencing  the  popular  voice.  The  rugged  face  of  Mr. 
Barton  stiffened  as  she  approached;  it  seemed  to  him 
that  the  night  before  he  had  been  snubbed  by  a  chit,  and 
he  was  not  the  man  to  forget  it  easily.  Alicia  Drake  was 
a  little  pale  and  a  little  silent  during  the  evening,  till, 
late  in  its  course,  she  succeeded  in  carrying  off  a  group 
of  young  men  who  had  come  for  the  shoot  and  were 
staying  the  night,  and  in  establishing  a  noisy  court  among 
them.  Mrs.  Fotheringham  disapproved,  by  now,  of  al- 
most everything  that  concerned  Miss  Mallory :  of  her  taste 
in  music  or  in  books ,  of  the  touch  of  effusion  in  her  man- 
ner, which  was  of  course  "  affected  "  or  "  aristocratic  " ;  of 
the  enthusiasms  she  did  not  possess,  no  less  than  of  those 
she  did.  On  the  sacred  subject  of  the  suffrage,  for  in- 
stance, which  with  Mrs.  Fotheringham  was  a  matter  for 
propaganda  everywhere  and  at  all  times,  Diana  was  but 
a  cracked  cymbal,  when  struck  she  gave  back  either  no 
sound  at  all,  or  a  wavering  one.  Her  beautiful  eyes 
were  blank  or  hostile ;  she  would  escape  like  a  fawn  from 
the  hunter.  As  for  other  politics,  no  one  but  Mrs.  Foth- 
eringham dreamed  of  introducing  them.  She,  however, 
would  have  discovered  many  ways  of  dragging  them 
in,  and  of  setting  down  Diana;  but  here  her  brother 
was  on  the  watch,  and  time  after  time  she  found  herself 
checked  or  warded  off. 

Diana,  indeed,  was  well  defended.  The  more  ill-hu- 
mored Mrs.  Fotheringham  grew,  the  more  Lady  Niton 

IO2 


The    Testing    of   Diana    Mallorg 

enjoyed  the  evening  and  her  own  "  Nitonisms. "  It  was 
she  who  after  dinner  suggested  the  clearing  of  the  hall 
.and  an  impromptu  dance — on  the  ground  that  "girls 
must  waltz  for  their  living."  And  when  Diana  proved 
to  be  one  of  those  in  whom  dancing  is  a  natural  and 
shining  gift,  so  that  even  the  gilded  youths  of  the  party, 
who  were  perhaps  inclined  to  fight  shy  of  Miss  Mallory 
as  "a  girl  who  talked  clever,"  even  they  came  crowding 
about  her,  like  flies  about  a  milk-pail — it  was  Lady  Niton 
who  drew  Isabel  Fotheringham's  attention  to  it  loudly 
and  repeatedly.  It  was  she  also  who,  at  a  pause  in 
the  dancing  and  at  a  hint  from  Mrs.  Colwood,  insisted 
on  making  Diana  sing,  to  the  grand  piano  which  had 
been  pushed  into  a  corner  of  the  hall.  And  when  the 
singing,  helped  by  the  looks  and  personality  of  the  singer, 
had  added  to  the  girl's  success,  Lady  Niton  sat  fanning 
herself  in  reflected  triumph,  appealing  to  the  spectators 
on  all  sides  for  applause.  The  topics  that  Diana  fled 
from,  Lady  Niton  took  up ;  and  when  Mrs.  Fotheringham, 
bewildered  by  an  avalanche  of  words,  would  say — "  Give 
me  time,  please,  Lady  Niton — I  must  think!" — Lady 
Niton  would  reply,  coolly — "  Not  unless  you're  accus- 
tomed to  it";  while  she  finally  capped  her  misdeeds  by 
insisting  that  it  was  no  good  to  say  Mr.  Barton  had  a 
warm  heart  if  he  were  without  that  much  more  useful 
possession — a  narrow  mind. 

Thus  buttressed  and  befriended  on  almost  all  sides, 
Diana  drank  her  cup  of  pleasure.  Once  in  an  interval 
between  two  dances,  as  she  passed  on  Oliver  Marsham's 
arm,  close  to  Lady  Lucy,  that  lady  put  up  her  frail  old 
hand,  and  gently  touched  Diana's.  "Do  not  overtire 
yourself,  my  dear!"  she  said,  with  effusion;  and  Oliver, 
looking  down,  knew  very  well  what  his  mother's  rare 

103 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

effusion  meant,  if  Diana  did  not.  On  several  occasions 
Mr.  Ferrier  sought  her  out,  with  every  mark  of  flattering 
attention,  while  it  often  seemed  to  Diana  as  if  the 
protecting  kindness  of  Sir  James  Chide  was  never  far 
away.  In  her  white  ingenue's  dress  she  was  an  embodi- 
ment of  youth,  simplicity,  and  joy,  such  as  perhaps  our 
grandmothers  knew  more  commonly  than  we,  in  our 
more  hurried  and  complex  day.  And  at  the  same  time 
there  floated  round  her  something  more  than  youth — 
something  more  thrilling  and  challenging  than  mere 
girlish  delight — an  effluence,  a  passion,  a  "  swell  of  soul," 
which  made  this  dawn  of  her  life  more  bewitching  even 
for  its  promise  than  for  its  performance. 

For  Marsham,  too,  the  hours  flew.  He  was  carried 
away,  enchanted;  he  had  eyes  for  no  one,  time  for  no 
one  but  Diana;  and  before  the  end  of  the  evening  the 
gossip  among  the  Tallyn  guests  ran  fast  and  free.  When 
at  last  the  dance  broke  up,  many  a  curious  eye  watched 
the  parting  between  Marsham  and  Diana;  and  in  their 
bedroom  on  the  top  floor  Lady  Lucy's  two  nieces  sat  up 
till  the  small  hours  discussing,  first,  the  situation — was 
Oliver  really  caught  at  last  ? — and  then,  Alicia's  refusal 
to  discuss  it.  She  had  said  bluntly  that  she  was  dog- 
tired — and  shut  her  door  upon  them. 

/  On  a  hint  from  his  mother,  Marsham  went  to  say 
good-night  to  her  in  her  room.  She  threw  her  arms 
round  his  neck,  whispering:  "Dear  Oliver! — dear  Oli- 
ver!— I  just  wished  you  to  know — if  it  is  as  I  think — 
that  you  had  my  blessing." 

He  drew  back,  a  little  shrinking  and  reluctant — yet 
still  flushed,  as  it  were,  with  the  last  rays  Diana's  sun 
had  shed  upon  him. 

104 


The    Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

"Things  mustn't  be  hurried,  mother." 

"No — no — they  sha'n't.  But  you  know  how  I  have 
wished  to  see  you  happy — how  ambitious  I  have  been 
for  you!" 

"  Yes,  mother,  I  know.  You  have  been  always  very 
good  to  me."  He  had  recovered  his  composure,  and 
stood  holding  her  hand  and  smiling  at  her. 

"What  a  charming  creature,  Oliver!  It  is  a  pity,  of 
course,  her  father  has  indoctrinated  her  with  those 
opinions,  but — " 

"Opinions!"  he  said,  scornfully — "what  do  they  mat- 
ter!" But  he  could  not  discuss  Diana.  His  blood  was 
still  too  hot  within  him. 

"Of  course — of  course!"  said  Lady  Lucy,  soothingly. 
"She  is  so  young — she  will  develop.  But  what  a  wife, 
Oliver,  she  will  make — how  she  might  help  a  man  on — 
with  her  talents  and  her  beauty  and  her  refinement. 
She  has  such  dignity,  too,  for  her  years." 

He  made  no  reply,  except  to  repeat : 

"  Don't  hurry  it,  mother — don't  hurry  it." 

"No — no" — she  said,  laughing — "I  am  not  such  a 
fool.  There  will  be  many  natural  opportunities  of 
meeting." 

"  There  are  some  difficulties  with  the  Vavasours.  They 
have  been  disagreeable  about  the  gardens.  Ferrier  and  I 
have  promised  to  go  over  and  advise  her." 

"Good!"  said  Lady  Lucy,  delighted  that  the  Vava- 
sours had  been  disagreeable.  "Good-night,  my  son, 
good-night!" 

A  minute  later   Oliver  stood  meditating  in  his  own 

room,  where  he  had  just  donned  his  smoking- jacket. 

By  one  of  the  natural  ironies  of  life,  at  a  moment  when 

he  was  more  in  love  than  he  had  ever  been  yet,  he  was, 

a  105 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallorg 

nevertheless,  thinking  eagerly  of  prospects  and  of  money. 
Owing  to  his  peculiar  relation  to  his  mother,  and  his  fa- 
ther's estate,  marriage  would  be  to  him  no  mere  satisfac- 
tion of  a  personal  passion.  It  would  be  a  vital  incident 
in  a  politician's  career,  to  whom  larger  means  and  greater 
independence  were  now  urgently  necessary.  To  marry 
with  his  mother's  full  approval  would  at  last  bring  about 
that  provision  for  himself  which  his  father's  will  had 
most  unjustly  postponed.  He  was  monstrously  depend- 
ent upon  her.  It  had  been  one  of  the  chief  checks  on  a 
strong  and  concentrated  ambition.  But  Lady  Lucy  had 
long  made  him  understand  that  to  marry  according  to 
her  wishes  would  mean  emancipation:  a  much  larger  in- 
come in  the  present,  and  the  final  settlement  of  her  will 
in  his  favor.  It  was  amazing  how  she  had  taken  to 
Diana!  Diana  had  only  to  accept  him,  and  his  future 
was  secured. 

But  though  thoughts  of  this  kind  passed  in  tumultuous 
procession  through  the  grooves  of  consciousness,  they 
were  soon  expelled  by  others.  Marsham  was  no  mere 
interested  schemer.  Diana  should  help  him  to  his  career; 
but  above  all  and  before  all  she  was  the  adorable  brown- 
eyed  creature,  whose  looks  had  just  been  shining  upon 
him,  whose  soft  hand  had  just  been  lingering  in  his! 
As  he  stood  alone  and  spellbound  in  the  dark,  yielding 
himself  to  the  surging  waves  of  feeling  which  broke 
over  his  mind,  the  thought,  the  dream,  of  holding  Diana 
Mallory  in  his  arms — of  her  head  against  his  breast — 
came  upon  him  with  a  sudden  and  stinging  delight. 

Yet  the  delight  was  under  control — the  control  of  a 
keen  and  practical  intelligence.  There  rose  in  him  a 
sharp  sense  of  the  unfathomed  depths  and  possibilities  in 
such  a  nature  as  Diana's.  Once  or  twice  that  evening, 

106 


The    Testing    off    Diana    Mallory 

through  all  her  sweet  forthcomingness,  when  he  had 
forced  the  note  a  little,  she  had  looked  at  him  in  sudden 
surprise  or  shrinking.  No! — nothing  premature!  It 
seemed  to  him,  as  it  had  seemed  to  Bobbie  Forbes,  that 
she  could  only  be  won  by  the  slow  and  gradual  conquest 
of  a  rich  personality.  He  set  himself  to  the  task. 

Down  -  stairs  Mr.  Ferrier  and  Sir  James  Chide  were 
sitting  together  in  a  remote  corner  of  the  hall.  Mr. 
Ferrier,  in  great  good-humor  with  the  state  of  things, 
was  discussing  Oliver's  chances,  confidentially,  with  his 
old  friend.  Sir  James  sat  smoking  in  silence.  He  lis- 
tened to  Ferrier's  praises  of  Miss  Mallory,  to  his  gen- 
erous appreciation  of  Marsham's  future,  to  his  specu- 
lations as  to  what  Lady  Lucy  would  do  for  her  son, 
upon  his  marriage,  or  as  to  the  part  which  a  creature  so 
brilliant  and  so  winning  as  Diana  might  be  expected  to 
play  in  London  and  in  political  life. 

f  Sir  James  said  little  or  nothing.  He  knew  Lady 
Lucy  well,  and  had  known  her  long.  Presently  he  rose 
abruptly  and  went  up-stairs  to  bed. 

"Ought  I  to  speak?"  he  asked  himself,  in  an  agony  of 
doubt.  "  Perhaps  a  word  to  Ferrier  ? — 

No! — impossible! — impossible!  Yet,  as  he  mounted 
the  stairs,  over  the  house  which  had  just  seen  the  tri- 
umph of  Diana,  over  that  radiant  figure  itself,  the  sec- 
ond sight  of  the  great  lawyer  perceived  the  brooding  of 
a  cloud  of  fate;  nor  could  he  do  anything  to  avert  or 
soften  its  downfall.! 

Meanwhile  Diana's  golden  hour  had  found  an  unex- 
pected epilogue.  After  her  good-night  to  Marsham  she 
was  walking  along  the  gallery  corridor  going  toward  her 

107 


The   Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

room,  when  she  perceived  Miss  Vincent  in  front  of  her 
moving  slowly  and,  as  it  seemed,  with  difficulty.  A 
sudden  impulse  made  Diana  fly  after  her. 

"Do  let  me  help  you!"  she  said,  shyly. 

Marion  Vincent  smiled,  and  put  her  hand  in  the  girl's 
arm. 

"  How  do  people  manage  to  live  at  all  in  these  big 
houses,  and  with  dinner-parties  every  night!"  she  said, 
laughing.  "  After  a  day  in  the  East  End  I  am  never  half 
so  tired." 

She  was  indeed  so  pale  that  Diana  was  rather  fright- 
ened, and  remembering  that  in  the  afternoon  she  had 
seen  Miss  Vincent  descend  from  an  upper  floor,  she  of- 
fered a  rest  in  her  own  room,  which  was  close  by,  before 
the  evidently  lame  woman  attempted  further  stairs. 

Marion  Vincent  hesitated  a  moment,  then  accepted. 
Diana  hurried  up  a  chair  to  the  fire,  installed  her  there, 
and  herself  sat  on  the  floor  watching  her  guest  with  some 
anxiety. 

Yet,  as  she  did  so,  she  felt  a  certain  antagonism.  The 
face,  of  which  the  eyes  were  now  closed,  was  nobly  grave. 
The  expression  of  its  deeply  marked  lines  appealed  to 
her  heart.  But  why  this  singularity — this  eccentricity  ? 
Miss  Vincent  wore  the  same  dress  of  dark  woollen  stuff, 
garnished  with  white  frills,  in  which  she  had  appeared 
the  night  before,  and  her  morning  attire,  as  Mr.  Frobisher 
had  foretold,  had  consisted  of  a  precisely  similar  garment, 
adorned  with  a  straight  collar  instead  of  frills.  Surely 
a  piece  of  acting ! — of  unnecessary  self-assertion ! 

Yet  all  through  the  day — and  the  evening — Diana  had 
been  conscious  of  this  woman's  presence,  in  a  strange 
penetrating  way,  even  when  they  had  had  least  to  do 
with  each  other.  In  the  intervals  of  her  own  joyous 

1 08 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

progress  she  had  been  often  aware  of  Miss  Vincent  sit- 
ting apart,  sometimes  with  Mr.  Frobisher,  who  was  read- 
ing or  talking  to  her,  sometimes  with  Lady  Lucy,  and — 
during  the  dance — with  John  Barton.  Barton  might 
have  been  the  Jeremiah  or  the  Ezekiel  of  the  occasion. 
He  sat  astride  upon  a  chair,  in  his  respectable  work- 
man's clothes,  his  eyes  under  their  shaggy  brows,  his 
weather-beaten  features  and  compressed  lips  express- 
ing an  ill-concealed  contempt  for  the  scene  before  him. 
It  was  rumored  that  he  had  wished  to  depart  before  din- 
ner, having  concluded  his  consultation  with  Mr.  Ferrier, 
but  that  Mrs.  Fotheringham  had  persuaded  him  to 
remain  for  the  night.  His  presence  seemed  to  make 
dancing  a  misdemeanor,  and  the  rich  house,  with  its 
services  and  appurtenances,  an  organized  crime.  But 
if  his  personality  was  the  storm  -  point  of  the  scene, 
charged  with  potential  lightning,  Marion  Vincent's  was 
the  still  small  voice,  without  threat  or  bitterness,  which 
every  now  and  then  spoke  to  a  quick  imagination  like 
Diana's  its  message  from  a  world  of  poverty  and  pain. 
And  sometimes  Diana  had  been  startled  by  the  percep- 
tion that  the  message  seemed  to  be  specially  for  her. 
Miss  Vincent's  eyes  followed  her;  whenever  Diana  passed 
near  her,  she  smiled — she  admired.  But  always,  as  it 
seemed  to  Diana,  with  a  meaning  behind  the  smile. 
Yet  what  that  meaning  might  be  the  girl  could  not  tell. 

At  last,  as  she  watched  her,  Marion  Vincent  looked  up. 

"  Mr.  Barton  would  talk  to  me  just  now  about  the 
history  of  his  own  life.  I  suppose  it  was  the  dance  and  the 
supper  excited  him.  He  began  to  testify!  Sometimes 
when  he  does  that  he  is  magnificent.  He  said  some  fine 
things  to-night.  But  I  am  run  down  and  couldn't 
stand  it," 

109 


The  Testing    of   Diana   Mallorg 

Diana  asked  if  Mr.  Barton  had  himself  gone  through 
a  great  struggle  with  poverty. 

"The  usual  struggle.  No  more  than  thousands  of 
others.  Only  in  him  it  is  vocal — he  can  reflect  upon  it. 
— You  had  an  easy  triumph  over  him  last  night,"  she 
added,  with  a  smile,  turning  to  her  companion. 

"Who  wouldn't  have?"  cried  Diana.  "What  out- 
rageous things  he  said!" 

"  He  doesn't  know  much  about  India — or  the  Colonies. 
He  hasn't  travelled;  he  reads  very  little.  He  showed 
badly.  But  on  his  own  subjects  he  is  good  enough. 
I  have  known  him  impress  or  convert  the  most  unlikely 
people — by  nothing  but  a  bare  sincerity.  Just  now — 
while  the  servants  were  handing  champagne — he  and  I 
were  standing  a  little  way  off  under  the  gallery.  His 
eyes  are  weak,  and  he  can't  bear  the  glare  of  all  these 
lights.  Suddenly  he  told  me  the  story  of  his  father's 
death." 

She  paused,  and  drew  her  hand  across  her  eyes.  Diana 
saw  that  they  were  wet.  But  although  startled,  the  girl 
held  herself  a  little  aloof  and  erect,  as  though  ready  at  a 
moment's  notice  to  defend  herself  against  a  softening 
which  might  involve  a  treachery  to  glorious  and  sacred 
things. 

"It  so  chanced" — Miss  Vincent  resumed — "that  it 
had  a  bearing  on  experiences  of  my  own — just  now." 

"  You  are  living  in  the  East  End?" 

"  At  present.  I  am  trying  to  find  out  the  causes  of  a 
great  wave  of  poverty  and  unemployment  in  a  particular 
district." — She  named  it. — "  It  is  hard  work — and  not 
particularly  good  for  the  nerves." 

She  smiled,  but  at  the  same  moment  she  turned  ex- 
tremely white,  and  as  she  fell  back  in  her  chair,  Diana 

no 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

saw  her  clinch  her  hand  as  though  in  a  strong  effort  for 
physical  self-control. 

Diana  sprang  up. 

"Let  me  get  you  some  water!" 

"  Don't  go.  Don't  tell  anybody.  Just  open  that  win- 
dow." Diana  obeyed,  and  the  northwest  wind,  sweep- 
ing in,  seemed  to  revive  her  pale  companion  almost 
at  once. 

"I  am  very  sorry!"  said  Miss  Vincent,  after  a  few 
minutes,  in  her  natural  voice.  "Now  I  am  all  right." 
She  drank  some  water,  and  looked  up. 

"  Shall  I  tell  you  the  story  he  told  me  ?  It  is  very 
short,  and  it  might  change  your  view  of  him." 

"If  you  feel  able — if  you  are  strong  enough,"  said 
Diana,  uncomfortably,  wondering  why  it  should  matter 
to  Miss  Vincent  or  anybody  else  what  view  she  might 
happen  to  take  of  Mr.  Barton. 

"  He  said  he  remembered  his  father  (who  was  a  house- 
painter — a  very  decent  and  hard-working  man)  having 
been  out  of  work  for  eight  weeks.  He  used  to  go  out 
looking  for  work  every  day — and  there  was  the  usual 
story,  of  course,  of  pawning  or  selling  all  their  possessions 
— odd  jobs — increasing  starvation — and  so  on.  Mean- 
while, his  only  pleasure — he  was  ten — was  to  go  with  his 
sister  after  school  to  look  at  two  shops  in  the  East  India 
Dock  Road — one  a  draper's  with  a  '  Christmas  Bazaar ' 
— the  other  a  confectioner's.  He  declares  it  made  him 
not  more  starved,  but  less,  to  look  at  the  goodies  and  the 
cakes;  they  imagined  eating  them;  but  they  were  both 
too  sickly,  he  thinks,  to  be  really  hungry.  As  for  the 
bazaar,  with  its  dolls  and  toys,  and  its  Father  Christmas, 
and  bright  lights,  they  both  thought  it  paradise.  They 
used  to  flatten  their  noses  against  the  glass ;  sometimes  a 

in 


The  Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

shopman  drove  them  away;  but  they  came  back  and 
back.  At  last  the  iron  shutters  would  come  down — 
slowly.  Then  he  and  his  sister  would  stoop — and  stoop 
— to  get  a  last  look.  Presently  there  would  be  only  a 
foot  of  bliss  left;  then  they  both  sank  down  flat  on  their 
stomachs  on  the  pavement,  and  so  stayed — greedily— 
till  all  was  dark,  and  paradise  had  been  swallowed  up. 
Well,  one  night,  the  show  had  been  specially  gorgeous; 
they  took  hands  afterward,  and  ran  home.  Their  father 
had  just  come  in.  Mr.  Barton  can  remember  his  stagger- 
ing into  the  room.  I'll  give  it  in  his  words.  '  Mother, 
have  you  got  anything  in  the  house?'  'Nothing,  Tom.' 
And  mother  began  to  cry.  '  Not  a  bit  of  bread,  mother  ?' 
'I  gave  the  last  bit  to  the  children  for  their  teas.' 
Father  said  nothing,  but  he  lay  down  on  the  bed.  Then 
he  called  me.  'Johnnie,'  he  said,  'I've  got  work — for 
next  week — but  I  sha'n't  never  go  to  it — it's  too  late,' 
and  then  he  asked  me  to  hold  his  hand,  and  turned  his 
face  on  the  pillow.  When  my  mother  came  to  look,  he 
was  dead.  '  Starvation  and  exhaustion ' — the  doctor 
said." 

Marion  Vincent  paused. 

"  It's  just  like  any  other  story  of  the  kind — isn't  it?" 
Her  smile  turned  on  Diana.  "The  charitable  societies 
and  missions  send  them  out  by  scores  in  their  appeals. 
But  somehow  as  he  told  it  just  now,  down-stairs,  in  that 
glaring  hall,  with  the  champagne  going  round — it  seemed 
intolerable." 

"And  you  mean  also" — said  Diana,  slowly — "that  a 
man  with  that  history  can't  know  or  care  very  much 
about  the  Empire?" 

"Our  minds  are  all  picture-books,"  said  the  woman 
beside  her,  in  a  low,  dreamy  voice :  "  it  depends  upon 

112 


The  Testing   of!   Diana   Mallorg 

what  the  pictures  are.  To  you  the  words  'England' — 
and  the  'Empire' — represent  one  set  of  pictures — all 
bright  and  magnificent — like  the  Christmas  Bazaar.  To 
John  Barton  and  me" — she  smiled — "they  represent 
another.  We  too  have  seen  the  lights,  and  the  candles, 
and  the  toys;  we  have  admired  them,  as  you  have;  but 
we  know  the  reality  is  not  there.  The  reality  is  in  the 
dark  streets,  where  men  tramp,  looking  for  work;  it  is  in 
the  rooms  where  their  wives  and  children  live  stifled  and 
hungry — the  rooms  where  our  working  folk  die — with- 
out having  lived." 

Her  eyes,  above  her  pale  cheeks,  had  opened  to  their 
fullest  extent — the  eyes  of  a  seer.  They  held  Diana. 
So  did  the  voice,  which  was  the  voice  of  one  in  whom 
tragic  passion  and  emotion  are  forever  wearing  away 
the  physical  frame,  as  the  sea  waves  break  down  a 
crumbling  shore. 

Suddenly  Diana  bent  over  her,  and  took  her  hands. 

"  I  wonder  why  you  thought  me  worth  talking  to  like 
this?"  she  said,  impetuously. 

"  I  liked  you!"  said  Marion  Vincent,  simply.  "  I  liked 
you  as  you  talked  last  night.  Only  I  wanted  to  add  some 
more  pictures  to  your  picture-book.  Your  set  —  the 
popular  one — is  called  The  Glories  of  England.  There 
is  another — I  recommend  it  to  you:  The  Shames  of 
England." 

"You  think  poverty  a  disgrace?"  murmured  Diana, 
held  by  the  glowing  fanatical  look  of  the  speaker. 

"Our  poverty  is  a  disgrace — the  life  of  our  poor  is 
a  disgrace.  What  does  the  Empire  matter — what  do 
Afghan  campaigns  matter — while  London  is  rotten? 
However"  (she  smiled  again,  and  caressed  Diana's 
hand),  "will  you  make  friends  with  me?" 

"3 


The   Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

"Is  it  worth  while  for  you?"  said  Diana,  laughing. 
"  I  shall  always  prefer  my  picture-book  to  yours,  I  am 
afraid.  And — I  am  not  poor — and  I  don't  give  all  my 
money  away." 

Miss  Vincent  surveyed  her  gayly. 

"Well,  I  come  here,"  (she  looked  significantly  round 
the  luxurious  room) ,  "  and  I  am  very  good  friends  with 
the  Marshams.  Oliver  Marsham  is  one  of  the  persons 
from  whom  I  hope  most." 

"Not  in  pulling  down  wealth — and  property!"  cried 
Diana. 

"  Why  not  ?  Every  revolution  has  its  Philippe  Egal- 
it€.  Oh,  it  will  come  slowly — it  will  come  slowly,"  said 
the  other,  quietly.  "And  of  course  there  will  be  trag- 
edy— there  always  is — in  everything.  But  not,  I  hope, 
for  you — never  for  you!"  And  once  more  her  hand 
dropped  softly  on  Diana's. 

"  You  were  happy  to-night  ? — you  enjoyed  the  dance  ?" 

The  question,  so  put,  with  such  a  look,  from  another 
mouth,  would  have  been  an  impertinence.  Diana  shrank, 
but  could  not  resent  it.  Yet,  against  her  will,  she  flush- 
ed deeply. 

"Yes.  It  was  delightful.  I  did  not  expect  to  enjoy 
it  so  much,  but — " 

"  But  you  did!    That's  well.     That's  good!" 

Marion  Vincent  rose  feebly.  And  as  she  stood,  lean- 
ing on  the  chair,  she  touched  the  folds  of  Diana's  white 
dress. 

"  When  shall  I  see  you  again  ?— and  that  dress  ?" 

"  I  shall  be  in  London  in  May,"  said  Diana,  eagerly — 
"  May  I  come  then ?  You  must  tell  me  where." 

"  Ah,  you  won't  come  to  Bethnal  Green  in  that  dress. 
What  a  pity!" 

114 


The   Testing    of   Diana   Mallorg 

Diana  helped  her  to  her  room,  where  they  shook  hands 
and  parted.  Then  Diana  came  back  to  her  own  quarters. 
She  had  put  out  the  electric  light  for  Miss  Vincent's  sake. 
The  room  was  lit  only  by  the  fire.  In  the  full-length 
mirror  of  the  toilet-table  Diana  saw  her  own  white  re- 
flection, and  the  ivy  leaves  in  her  hair.  The  absence  of 
her  mourning  was  first  a  pain ;  then  the  joy  of  the' evening 
surged  up  again.  Oh,  was  it  wrong,  was  it  wrong  to  be 
happy — in  this  world  "  where  men  sit  and  hear  each  other 
groan"?  She  clasped  her  hands  to  her  soft  breast,  as 
though  defending  the  warmth,  the  hope  that  were  spring- 
ing there,  against  any  dark  protesting  force  that  might 
threaten  to  take  them  from  her. 


CHAPTER  VI 

"T  TENRY,"  said  Mrs.  Roughsedge  to  her  husband, 

11  "  I  think  it  would  do  you  good  to  walk  to  Beech- 
cote." 

"  No,  my  dear,  no !  I  have  many  proofs  to  get  through 
before  dinner.  Take  Hugh.  Only — 

Dr.  Roughsedge,  smiling,  held  up  a  beckoning  finger. 
His  wife  approached. 

"Don't  let  him  fall  in  love  with  that  young  woman. 
It's  no  good." 

"Well,  she  must  marry  somebody,  Henry." 

"Big  fishes  mate  with  big  fishes  —  minnows  with 
minnows." 

"  Don't  run  down  your  own  son,  sir.  Who,  pray,  is 
too  good  for  him?" 

"The  world  is  divided  into  wise  men,  fools,  and 
mothers.  The  characters  of  the  first  two  are  mingled — 
disproportionately — in  the  last,"  said  Dr.  Roughsedge, 
patiently  enduring  the  kiss  his  wife  inflicted  on  him. 
"  Don't  kiss  me,  Patricia — don't  tread  on  my  proofs — go 
away — and  tell  Jane  not  to  forget  my  tea  because  you 
have  gone  out." 

Mrs.  Roughsedge  departed,  and  the  doctor,  who  was 
devoted  to  her,  sank  at  once  into  that  disorderly  welter  of 
proofs  and  smoke  which  represented  to  him  the  best  of 
the  day.  The  morning  he  reserved  for  hard  work,  and 
during  the  course  of  it  he  smoked  but  one  pipe.  A 

116 


The  Testing    of    Diana   Mallorg 

quotation  from  Fuller  which  was  often  on  his  lips 
expressed  his  point  of  view:  "Spill  not  the  morning, 
which  is  the  quintessence  of  the  day,  in  recreation.  For 
sleep  itself  is  a  recreation.  And  to  open  the  morning 
thereto  is  to  add  sauce  to  sauce." 

But  in  the  afternoon  he  gave  himself  to  all  the  de- 
lightful bye- tasks :  the  works  of  supererogation,  the  ex- 
cursions into  side  paths,  the  niggling  with  proofs,  the 
toying  with  style,  the  potterings  and  polishings,  the  ru- 
minations, and  re  writings  and  refinements  which  make 
the  joy  of  the  man  of  letters.  For  five-and-twenty 
years  he  had  been  a  busy  Cambridge  coach,  tied  year  in 
and  year  out  to  the  same  strictness  of  hours,  the  same 
monotony  of  subjects,  the  same  patient  drumming  on 
thick  heads  and  dull  brains.  Now  that  was  all  over.  A 
brother  had  left  him  a  little  money;  he  had  saved  the  rest. 
At  sixty  he  had  begun  to  live.  He  was  editing  a  series 
of  reprints  for  the  Cambridge  University  Press,  and  what 
mortal  man  could  want  more  than  a  good  wife  and  son, 
a  cottage  to  live  in,  a  fair  cook,  unlimited  pipes,  no  debts, 
and  the  best  of  English  literature  to  browse  in?  The 
rural  afternoon,  especially,  when  he  smoked  and  grub- 
bed and  divagated  as  he  pleased,  was  alone  enough  to 
make  the  five-and-twenty  years  of  "  swink"  worth  while. 

Mrs.  Roughsedge  stayed  to  give  very  particular  orders 
to  the  house-parlormaid  about  the  doctor's  tea,  to  open 
a  window  in  the  tiny  drawing-room,  and  to  put  up  in 
brown  paper  a  pair  of  bed-socks  that  she  had  just  finished 
knitting  for  an  old  man  in  one  of  the  parish-houses. 
Then  she  joined  her  son,  who  was  already  waiting  for 
her — impatiently — in  the  garden. 

Hugh  Roughsedge  had  only  just  returned  from  a 
month's  stay  in  London,  made  necessary  by  those  new 

117 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

Army  examinations  which  his  soul  detested.  By  dint 
of  strenuous  coaching  he  had  come  off  moderately 
victorious,  and  had  now  returned  home  for  a  week's 
extra  leave  before  rejoining  his  regiment.  One  of  the 
first  questions  on  his  tongue,  as  his  mother  instantly 
noticed,  had  been  a  question  as  to  Miss  Mallory.  Was 
she  still  at  Beechcote?  Had  his  mother  seen  anything 
of  her? 

Yes,  she  was  still  at  Beechcote.  Mrs.  Roughsedge, 
however,  had  seen  her  but  seldom  and  slightly  since  her 
son's  departure  for  London.  If  she  had  made  one  or  two 
observations  from  a  distance,  with  respect  to  the  young 
lady,  she  withheld  them.  And  like  the  discerning  mother 
that  she  was,  at  the  very  first  opportunity  she  proposed 
a  call  at  Beechcote. 

On  their  way  thither,  this  February  afternoon,  they 
talked  in  a  desultory  way  about  some  new  War-Office 
reforms,  which,  as  usual,  the  entire  Army  believed  to  be 
merely  intended — wilfully  and  deliberately — for  its  de- 
struction; about  a  recent  gambling  scandal  in  the  regi- 
ment, or  the  peculiarities  of  Hugh's  commanding  officer. 
Meanwhile  he  held  his  peace  on  the  subject  of  some  letters 
he  had  received  that  morning.  There  was  to  be  an  ex- 
pedition in  Nigeria.  Officers  were  wanted;  and  he  had 
volunteered.  The  result  of  his  application  was  not  yet 
known.  He  had  no  intention  whatever  of  upsetting  his 
parents  till  it  was  known. 

"  I  wonder  how  Miss  Mallory  liked  Tallyn,"  said  Mrs. 
Roughsedge,  briskly. 

She  had  already  expressed  the  same  wonder  once  or 
twice.  But  as  neither  she  nor  her  son  had  any  materials 
for  deciding  the  point  the  remark  hardly  promoted  con- 
versation. She  added  to  it  another  of  more  effect. 

118 


The   Testing    o£   Diana    Mallory 

"The  Miss  Bertrams  have  already  made  up  their 
minds  that  she  is  to  marry  Oliver  Marsham." 

"The  deuce!"  cried  the  startled  Roughsedge.  "Beg 
your  pardon,  mother,  but  how  can  those  old  cats  possibly 
know?" 

"They  can't  know,"  said  Mrs.  Roughsedge,  placidly. 
"But  as  soon  as  you  get  a  young  woman  like  that  into 
the  neighborhood,  of  course  everybody  begins  to  specu- 
late." 

"They  mumble  any  fresh  person,  like  a  dog  with  a 
bone,"  said  Roughsedge,  indignantly. 

They  were  passing  across  the  broad  village  street. 
On  either  hand  were  old  timbered  cottages,  sun-mellowed 
and  rain-beaten ;  a  thatched  roof  showing  here  and  there ; 
or  a  bit  of  mean  new  building,  breaking  the  time-worn 
line.  To  their  left,  keeping  watch  over  the  graves  which 
encircled  it,  rose  the  fourteenth-century  church;  amid 
the  trees  around  it  rooks  were  cawing  and  wheeling; 
and  close  beneath  it  huddled  other  cottages,  ivy-grown, 
about  the  village  well.  Afternoon  school  was  just  over, 
and  the  children  were  skipping  and  running  about  the 
streets.  Through  the  cottage  doors  could  be  seen  oc- 
casionally the  gleam  of  a  fire  or  a  white  cloth  spread 
for  tea.  For  the  womenfolk,  at  least,  tea  was  the  great 
meal  of  the  day  in  Beechcote.  So  that  what  with  the 
flickering  of  the  fires,  and  the  sunset  light  on  the  win- 
dows, the  skipping  children,  the  dogs,  the  tea-tables,  and 
the  rooks,  Beechcote  wore  a  cheerful  and  idyllic  air.  But 
Mrs.  Roughsedge  knew  too  much  about  these  cottages. 
In  this  one  to  the  left  a  girl  had  just  borne  her  second 
illegitimate  child;  in  that  one  farther  on  were  two 
mentally  deficient  children,  the  offspring  of  feeble-mind- 
ed parents;  in  the  next,  an  old  woman,  the  victim  of 

119 


The    Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

pernicious  anaemia,  was  moaning  her  life  away;  in  the 
last  to  the  right  the  mother  of  five  small  children  had 
just  died  in  her  sixth  confinement.  Mrs.  Roughsedge 
gave  a  long  sigh  as  she  looked  at  it.  The  tragedy  was 
but  forty-eight  hours  old ;  she  had  sat  up  with  the  mother 
through  her  dying  hours. 

"Oh,  my  dear!"  said  Mrs.  Roughsedge,  suddenly — 
"here  comes  the  Vicar.  Do  you  know,  it's  so  unlucky 
— and  so  strange ! — but  he  has  certainly  taken  a  dislike  to 
Miss  Mallory — I  believe  it  was  because  he  had  hoped 
some  Christian  Socialist  friends  of  his  would  have  taken 
Beechcote,  and  he  was  disappointed  to  find  it  let  to 
some  one  with  what  he  calls  "silly  Tory  notions"  and 
no  particular  ideas  about  Church  matters.  Now  there's 
a  regular  fuss — something  about  the  Book  Club.  I 
don't  understand — 

The  Vicar  advanced  toward  them.  He  came  along 
at  a  great  pace,  his  lean  figure  closely  sheathed  in  his 
long  clerical  coat,  his  face  a  little  frowning  and  set. 

At  the  sight  of  Mrs.  Roughsedge  he  drew  up,  and 
greeted  the  mother  and  son. 

"May  I  have  a  few  words  with  you?"  he  asked  Mrs. 
Roughsedge,  as  he  turned  back  with  them  toward  the 
Beechcote  lane.  "  I  don't  know  whether  you  are  ac- 
quainted, Mrs.  Roughsedge,  with  what  has  just  hap- 
pened in  the  Book  Club,  to  which  we  both  belong?" 

The  Book  Club  was  a  village  institution  of  some 
antiquity.  It  embraced  some  ten  families,  who  drew  up 
their  Mudie  lists  in  common  and  sent  the  books  from 
house  to  house.  The  Vicar  and  Dr.  Roughsedge  had 
been  till  now  mainly  responsible  for  these  lists — so  far,  at 
least,  as  "serious  books"  were  concerned,  the  ladies 
being  allowed  the  chief  voice  in  the  novels. 

120 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

Mrs.  Roughsedge,  a  little  fluttered,  asked  for  informa- 
tion. 

"Miss  Mallory  has  recommended  two  books  which,  in 
my  opinion,  should  not  be  circulated  among  us,"  said 
the  Vicar.  "  I  have  protested — in  vain.  Miss  Mallory 
maintains  her  recommendation.  I  propose,  therefore,  to 
withdraw  from  the  Club." 

"Are  they  improper?"  cried  Mrs.  Roughsedge,  much 
distressed.  Captain  Roughsedge  threw  an  angry  look 
first  at  his  mother  and  then  at  the  Vicar. 

"  Not  in  the  usual  sense,"  said  the  Vicar,  stiffly — "but 
highly  improper  for  the  reading  of  Christian  people. 
One  is  by  a  Unitarian,  and  the  other  reproduces  some 
of  the  worst  speculations  of  an  infidel  German  theology. 
I  pointed  out  the  nature  of  the  books  to  Miss  Mallory. 
She  replied  that  they  were  both  by  authors  whom  her 
father  liked.  I  regretted  it.  Then  she  fired  up,  refused 
to  withdraw  the  names,  and  offered  to  resign.  Miss 
Mallory's  subscription  to  the  Club  is,  however,  much 
larger  than  mine.  /  shall  therefore  resign — protesting,  of 
course,  against  the  reason  which  induces  me  to  take  this 
course." 

"What's  wrong  with  the  books?"  asked  Hugh  Rough- 
sedge. 

The  Vicar  drew  himself  up. 

"  I  have  given  my  reasons." 

"  Why,  you  see  that  kind  of  thing  in  every  newspaper," 
said  Roughsedge,  bluntly. 

"  All  the  more  reason  why  I  should  endeavor  to  keep 
my  parish  free  from  it,"  was  the  Vicar's  resolute  reply. 
"  However,  there  is  no  more  to  be  said.  I  wished  Mrs. 
Roughsedge  to  understand  what  had  happened — that  is 
all." 

9  121 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

He  paused,  and  offered  a  limp  hand  in  good-bye. 

"  Let  me  speak  to  Miss  Mallory,"  said  Mrs.  Roughsedge, 
soothingly. 

The  Vicar  shook  his  head. 

"She  is  a  young  lady  of  strong  will."  And  with  a 
hasty  nod  of  farewell  to  the  Captain,  whose  hostility  he 
divined,  he  walked  away. 

"And  what  about  obstinate  and  pig-headed  parsons!" 
said  Roughsedge,  hotly,  addressing  his  remark,  however, 
safely  to  the  Vicar's  back,  and  to  his  mother.  "Who 
makes  him  a  judge  of  what  we  shall  read!  I  shall  make 
a  point  of  asking  for  both  the  books!" 

"Oh,  my  dear  Hugh!"  cried  his  mother,  in  rather 
troubled  protest.  Then  she  happily  reflected  that  if  he 
asked  for  them,  he  was  not  in  the  least  likely  to  read 
them.  "I  hope  Miss  Mallory  is  not  really  an  unbe- 
liever." 

"  Mother!  Of  course,  what  that  poker  in  a  wideawake 
did  was  to  say  something  uncivil  about  her  father,  and 
she  wasn't  going  to  stand  that.  Quite  right,  too." 

"  She  did  come  to  church  on  Christmas  Day,"  said 
Mrs.  Roughsedge,  reflecting.  "  But,  then,  a  great  many 
people  do  that  who  don't  believe  anything.  Anyway, 
she  has  always  been  quite  charming  to  your  father 
and  me.  And  I  think,  besides,  the  Vicar  might  have 
been  satisfied  with  your  father's  opinion — he  made  no 
complaint  about  the  books.  Oh,  now  the  Miss  Bertrams 
are  going  to  stop  us!  They'll  of  course  know  all  about 
it!" 

If  Captain  Roughsedge  growled  ugly  words  into  his 
mustache,  his  mother  was  able  to  pretend  not  to  hear 
them,  in  the  gentle  excitement  of  shaking  hands  with  the 
Miss  Bertrams.  These  middle-aged  ladies,  the  daughters 

122 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorij 

of  a  deceased  doctor  from  the  neighboring  county  town 
of  Dunscombe,  were,  if  possible,  more  plainly  dressed 
than  usual,  and  their  manners  more  forbidding. 

"  You  will  have  heard  of  this  disagreeable  incident 
which  has  occurred,"  said  Miss  Maria  to  Mrs.  Roughsedge, 
with  a  pinched  mouth.  "  My  sister  and  I  shall,  of  course, 
remove  our  names  from  the  Club." 

"  I  say — don't  your  subscribers  order  the  books  they 
like?"  asked  Roughsedge,  half  wroth  and  half  laughing, 
surveying  the  lady  with  his  hand  on  his  side. 

"There  is  a  very  clear  understanding  among  us,"  said 
Miss  Maria,  sharply,  "  as  to  the  character  of  the  books 
to  be  ordered.  No  member  of  the  Club  has  yet  trans- 
gressed it." 

"There  must  be  give  and  take,  mustn't  there?"  said 
Miss  Elizabeth,  in  a  deprecatory  voice.  She  was  the 
more  amiable  and  the  weaker  of  the  two  sisters.  "  We 
should  never  order  books  that  would  be  offensive  to  Miss 
Mallory." 

"  But  if  you  haven't  read  the  books  ?" 

"The  Vicar's  word  is  quite  enough,"  said  Miss  Maria, 
with  her  most  determined  air. 

They  all  moved  on  together,  Captain  Roughsedge 
smoothing  or  tugging  at  his  mustache  with  a  restless 
hand. 

But  Miss  Bertram,  presently,  dropping  a  little  behind, 
drew  Mrs.  Roughsedge  with  her. 

"There  are  all  sorts  of  changes  at  the  house,"  she 
said,  confidentially.  "  The  laundry  maids  are  allowed  to 
go  out  every  evening,  if  they  like — and  Miss  Mallory 
makes  no  attempt  to  influence  the  servants  to  come  to 
church.  The  Vicar  says  the  seats'  for  the  Beechcote 
servants  have  never  been  so  empty." 

123 


The   Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

"Dear,  dear!"  murmured  Mrs.  Roughsedge. 

"And  money  is  improperly  given  away.  Several 
people  whom  the  Vicar  thinks  most  unfit  objects  of 
charity  have  been  assisted.  And  in  a  conversation  with 
her  last  week  Miss  Mallory  expressed  herself  in  a  very  sad 
way  about  foreign  missions.  Her  father's  idea,  again,  no 
doubt — but  it  is  all  very  distressing.  The  Vicar  doubts  " 
— Miss  Maria  spoke  warily,  bringing  her  face  very  close  to 
the  gray  curls — "  whether  she  has  ever  been  confirmed." 

This  final  stroke,  however,  fell  flat.  Mrs.  Roughsedge 
showed  no  emotion.  "Most  of  my  aunts,"  she  said, 
stoutly,  "were  never  confirmed,  and  they  were  good 
Christians  and  communicants  all  their  lives." 

Miss  Maria's  expression  showed  that  this  reference 
to  a  preceding  barbaric  age  of  the  Church  had  no  rele- 
vance to  the  existing  order  of  things. 

"Of  course,"  she  added,  hastily,  "I  do  not  wish  to 
make  myself  troublesome  or  conspicuous  in  any  way.  I 
merely  mention  these  things  as  explaining  why  the  Vicar 
felt  bound  to  make  a  stand.  The  Church  feeling  in  this 
parish  has  been  so  strong  it  would,  indeed,  be  a  pity  if 
anything  occurred  to  weaken  it." 

Mrs.  Roughsedge  gave  a  doubtful  assent.  As  to  the 
Church  feeling,  she  was  not  so  clear  as  Miss  Bertram. 
One  of  her  chief  friends  was  a  secularist  cobbler  who 
lived  under  the  very  shadow  of  the  church.  The  Miss 
Bertrams  shuddered  at  his  conversation.  Mrs.  Rough- 
sedge  found  him  racy  company,  and  he  presented  to 
her  aspects  of  village  life  and  opinion  with  which  the 
Miss  Bertrams  were  not  at  all  acquainted. 

As  the  mother  and  son  approached  the  old  house  in  the 
sunset  light,  its  aspect  of  mellow  and  intimate  congruity 

124 


The   Testing   of   Diana   Mallory 

with  the  woods  and  fields  about  it  had  never  been  more 
winning.  The  red,  gray,  and  orange  of  its.  old  brick- 
work played  into  the  brown  and  purples  of  its  engirdling 
trees,  into  the  lilacs  and  golds  and  crimsons  of  the  west- 
ern sky  behind  it,  into  the  cool  and  quiet  tones  of  the 
meadows  from  which  it  rose.  A  spirit  of  beauty  had  been 
at  work  fusing  man's  perishable  and  passing  work  with 
Nature's  eternal  masterpiece;  so  that  the  old  house  had 
in  it  something  immortal,  and  the  light  which  played 
upon  it  something  gently  personal,  relative,  and  fleet- 
ing. Winter  was  still  dominant;  a  northeast  wind 
blew.  But  on  the  grass  under  the  spreading  oaks  which 
sheltered  the  eastern  front  a  few  snow-drops  were  out. 
And  Diana  was  gathering  them. 

She  came  toward  her  visitors  with  alacrity.  "Oh! 
what  a  long  time  since  you  have  been  to  see  me!" 

Mrs.  Roughsedge  explained  that  she  had  been  enter- 
taining some  relations,  and  Hugh  had  been  in  London. 
She  hoped  that  Miss  Mallory  had  enjoyed  her  stay  at 
Tallyn.  It  certainly  seemed  to  both  mother  and  son  that 
the  ingenuous  young  face  colored  a  little  as  its  owner 
replied — "Thank  you — it  was  very  amusing" — and  then 
added,  with  a  little  hesitation — "  Mr.  Marsham  has  been 
kindly  advising  me  since,  about  the  gardens — and  the 
Vavasours.  They  were  to  keep  up  the  gardens,  you  know 
— and  now  they  practically  leave  it  to  me — which  isn't 
fair." 

Mrs.  Roughsedge  secretly  wondered  whether  this  state- 
ment was  meant  to  account  for  the  frequent  presence  of 
Oliver  Marsham  at  Beechcote.  She  had  herself  met  him 
in  the  lane  riding  away  from  Beechcote  no  less  than  three 
times  during  the  past  fortnight. 

"Please  come  in  to  tea!"  said  Diana;  "I  am  just  ex- 

125 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

pecting  my  cousin — Miss  Merton.  Mrs.  Colwood  and  I 
are  so  excited! — we  have  never  had  a  visitor  here  before. 
I  came  out  to  try  and  find  some  snow-drops  for  her  room. 
There  is  really  nothing  in  the  greenhouses — and  I  can't 
make  the  house  look  nice." 

Certainly  as  they  entered  and  passed  through  the 
panelled  hall  to  the  drawing-room  Hugh  Roughsedge 
saw  no  need  for  apology.  Amid  the  warm  dimness  of  the 
house  he  was  aware  of  a  few  starry  flowers,  a  few  gleam- 
ing and  beautiful  stuffs,  the  white  and  black  of  an  en- 
graving, or  the  blurred  golds  and  reds  of  an  old  Italian 
picture,  humble  school-work  perhaps,  collected  at  small 
cost  by  Diana's  father,  yet  still  breathing  the  magic  of 
the  Enchanted  Land.  The  house  was  refined,  pleading, 
eager — like  its  mistress.  ^  It  made  no  display — but  it 
admitted  no  vulgarity.  '  "  These  things  are  not  here  for 
mere  decoration's  sake,"  it  seemed  to  say.  ••  Dear  kind 
hands  have  touched  them;  dear  silent  voices  have 
spoken  of  them.  Love  them  a  little,  you  also! — and 
be  at  home.'* 

Not  that  Hugh  Roughsedge  made  any  such  conscious 
analysis  of  his  impressions.  Yet  the  house  appealed  to 
him  strangely.  He  thought  Miss  Mallory's  taste  marvel- 
lous; and  it  is  one  of  the  superiorities  in  women  to  which 
men  submit  most  readily. 

The  drawing-room  had  especially  a  festive  air.  Mrs. 
Colwood  was  keeping  tea-cakes  hot,  and  building  up  a 
blazing  fire  with  logs  of  beech-wood.  When  she  had 
seated  her  guests,  Diana  put  the  snow-drops  she  had 
gathered  into  an  empty  vase,  and  looked  round  her 
happily,  as  though  now  she  had  put  the  last  touch  to  all 
her  preparations.  She  talked  readily  of  her  cousin's 
coming  to  Mrs.  Roughsedge;  and  she  inquired  minutely 

126 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

of  Hugh  when  the  next  meet  was  to  be,  that  she  might 
take  her  guest  to  see  it. 

"Fanny  will  be  just  as  new  to  it  all  as  I!"  she  said. 
"  That's  so  nice,  isn't  it  ?"  Then  she  offered  Mrs.  Rough- 
sedge  cake,  and  looked  at  her  askance  with  a  hanging 
head.  "Have  you  heard — about  the  Vicar?" 

Mrs.  Roughsedge  admitted  it. 

"I  did  lose  my  temper,"  said  Diana,  repentantly. 
"But  really! — papa  used  to  tell  me  it  was  a  sign  of 
weakness  to  say  violent  things  you  couldn't  prove. 
Wasn't  it  Lord  Shaftesbury  that  said"  some  book  he 
didn't  like  was  "vomited  out  of  the  jaws  of  hell"? 
Well,  the  Vicar  said  things  very  like  that.  He  did  in- 
deed!" 

"Oh  no,  my  dear,  no!"  cried  Mrs.  Roughsedge,  dis- 
turbed by  the  quotation,  even,  of  such  a  remark.  Hugh 
Roughsedge  grinned.  Diana,  however,  insisted. 

"  Of  course,  I  would  have  given  them  up.  Only  I  just 
happened  to  say  that  papa  always  read  everything  he 
could  by  those  two  men — and  then" — she  flushed — 
"  Well,  I  don't  exactly  remember  what  Mr.  Lavery  said. 
But  I  know  that  when  he'd  said  it  I  wouldn't  have  given 
up  either  of  those  books  for  the  world!" 

"  I  hope,  Miss  Mallory,  you  won't  think  of  giving  them 
up,"  said  Hugh,  with  vigor.  "It  will  be  an  excellent 
thing  for  Lavery." 

Mrs.  Roughsedge,  as  the  habitual  peacemaker  of  the 
village,  said  hastily  that  Dr.  Roughsedge  should  talk  to 
the  Vicar.  Of  course,  he  must  not  be  allowed  to  do  any- 
thing so  foolish  as  to  withdraw  from  the  Club,  or  the 
Miss  Bertrams  either." 

"Oh!  my  goodness,"  cried  Diana,  hiding  her  face — 
and  then  raising  it,  crimson.  "The  Miss  Bertrams,  too! 

137 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

Why,  it's  only  six  weeks  since  I  first  came  to  this  place, 
and  now  I'm  setting  it  by  the  ears!" 

Her  aspect  of  mingled  mirth  and  dismay  had  in  it 
something  so  childish  and  disarming  that  Mrs.  Rough- 
sedge  could  only  wish  the  Vicar  had  been  there  to  see. 
His  heretical  parishioner  fell  into  meditation. 

"What  can  I  do?  If  I  could  only  be  sure  that  he 
would  never  say  things  like  that  to  me  again — 

"  But  he  will!"  said  Captain  Roughsedge.  "  Don't  give 
in,  Miss  Mallory." 

"Ah!"  said  Mrs.  Roughsedge,  as  the  door  opened, 
"  shall  we  ask  Mr.  Marsham  ?" 

Diana  turned  with  a  startled  movement.  It  was 
evident  that  Marsham  was  not  expected.  But  Mrs. 
Roughsedge  also  inferred  from  a  shrewd  observation  of 
her  hostess  that  he  was  not  unwelcome.  He  had,  in  fact, 
looked  in  on'  his  way  home  from  hunting  to  give  a 
message  from  his  mother;  that,  at  least,  was  the  pretext. 
Hugh  Roughsedge,  reading  him  with  a  hostile  eye,  said 
to  himself  that  if  it  hadn't  been  Lady  Lucy  it  would  have 
been  something  else.  As  it  happened,  he  was  quite  as 
well  aware  as  his  mother  that  Marsham's  visits  to  Beech- 
cote  of  late  had  been  far  more  frequent  than  mere  neigh- 
borliness  required. 

Marsham  was  in  hunting  dress,  and  made  his  usual 
handsome  and  energetic  impression.  Diana  treated  him 
with  great  self-possession,  asking  after  Mr.  Ferrier,  who 
had  just  returned  to  Tallyn  for  the  last  fortnight  before 
the  opening  of  Parliament,  and  betraying  to  the  Rough- 
sedges  that  she  was  already  on  intimate  terms  with  Lady 
Lucy,  who  was  lending  her  patterns  for  her  embroidery, 
driving  over  once  or  twice  a  week,  and  advising  her  about 
various  household  affairs.  Mrs.  Roughsedge,  who  had 

128 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

been  Diana's  first  protector,  saw  herself  supplanted — not 
without  a  little  natural  chagrin. 

The  controversy  of  the  moment  was  submitted  to 
Marsham,  who  decided  hotly  against  the  Vicar,  and 
implored  Diana  to  stand  firm.  But  somehow  his  inter- 
vention only  hastened  the  compunction  that  had  already 
begun  to  work  in  her.  She  followed  the  Roughsedges  to 
the  door  when  they  departed. 

"What  must  I  do?"  she  said,  sheepishly,  to  Mrs. 
Roughsedge.  "Write  to  him?" 

"The  Vicar?  Oh,  dear  Miss  Mallory,  the  doctor  will 
settle  it.  You  would  change  the  books?" 

"Mother!"  cried  Hugh  Roughsedge,  indignantly, 
"we're  all  bullied — you  know  we  are — and  now  you 
want  Miss  Mallory  bullied  too." 

"'Who  would  be  free,  themselves  must  strike  the 
blow,' "  laughed  Marsham,  in  the  background,  as  he  stood 
toying  with  his  tea  beside  Mrs.  Colwood. 

Diana  shook  her  head. 

"  I  can't  be  friends  with  him,"  she  said,  naively,  "  for  a 
long  long  time.  But  I'll  rewrite  my  list.  And  must  I 
go  and  call  on  the  Miss  Bertrams  to-morrow?" 

Her  mock  and  smiling  submission,  as  she  stood, 
slender  and  lovely,  amid  the  shadows  of  the  hall,  seemed 
to  Hugh  Roughsedge,  as  he  looked  back  upon  her,  the 
prettiest  piece  of  acting.  Then  she  turned,  and  he  knew 
that  she  was  going  back  to  Marsham.  At  the  same 
moment  he  saw  Mrs.  Colwood's  little  figure  disappearing 
up  the  main  stairway.  Frowning  and  silent,  he  followed 
his  mother  out  of  the  house. 

Diana  looked  round  rather  wistfully  for  Mrs.  Colwood 
as  she  re-entered  the  room;  but  that  lady  had  many 
letters  to  write. 

129 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

Marsham  noticed  Mrs.  Colwood's  retreat  with  a  thrill 
of  pleasure.  Yet  even  now  he  had  no  immediate  declara- 
tion in  his  mind.  The  course  that  he  had  marked  out  for 
himself  had  been  exactly  followed.  There  had  been  no 
"hurrying  it."  Only  in  these  weeks  before  Parliament, 
while  matters  of  great  moment  to  his  own  political  future 
were  going  forward,  and  his  participation  in  them  was 
not  a  whit  less  cool  and  keen  than  it  had  always  been,  he 
had  still  found  abundant  time  for  the  wooing  of  Diana. 
He  had  assumed  a  kind  of  guardian's  attitude  in  the 
matter  of  her  relations  to  the  Vavasours — who  in  business 
affairs  had  proved  both  greedy  and  muddle-headed;  he 
had  flattered  her  woman's  vanity  by  the  insight  he  had 
freely  allowed  her  into  the  possibilities  and  the  difficulties 
of  his  own  Parliamentary  position,  and  of  his  relations 
to  Ferrier;  and  he  had  kept  alive  a  kind  of  perpetual 
interest  and  flutter  in  her  mind  concerning  him,  by  the 
challenge  he  was  perpetually  offering  to  the  opinions  and 
ideas  in  which  she  had  been  brought  up — while  yet  com- 
bining it  with  a  respect  toward  her  father's  memory, 
so  courteous,  and,  in  truth,  sincere,  that  she  was  alter- 
nately roused  and  subdued. 

On  this  February  evening,  it  seemed  to  his  exultant 
sense,  as  Diana  sat  chatting  to  him  beside  the  fire,  that 
his  power  with  her  had  substantially  advanced,  that  by  a 
hundred  subtle  signs — quite  involuntary  on  her  part — 
she  let  him  understand  that  his  personality  was  pressing 
upon  hers,  penetrating  her  will,  transforming  her  gay 
and  fearless  composure. 

For  instance,  he  had  been  lending  her  books  repre- 
senting his  own  political  and  social  opinions.  To  her 
they  were  anathema.  Her  father's  soul  in  her  regarded 
them  as  forces  of  the  pit,  rising  in  ugly  clamor  to  drag 

130 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

down  England  from  her  ancient  place.  But  to  hate  and 
shudder  at  them  from  afar  had  been  comparatively  easy. 
To  battle  with  them  at  close  quarters,  as  presented  by 
this  able  and  courteous  antagonist,  who  passed  so  easily 
and  without  presumption  from  the  opponent  into  the 
teacher,  was  a  more  teasing  matter.  She  had  many  small 
successes  and  side- victories,  but  they  soon  ceased  to 
satisfy  her,  in  presence  of  the  knowledge  and  ability  of  a 
man  who  had  been  ten  years  in  Parliament,  and  had  made 
for  himself — she  began  to  understand — a  considerable 
position  there.  She  was  hotly  loyal  to  her  own  faiths; 
but  she  was  conscious  of  what  often  seemed  to  her  a 
dangerous  and  demoralizing  interest  in  his!  A  demor- 
alizing pleasure,  too,  in  listening — in  sometimes  laying 
aside  the  watchful,  hostile  air,  in  showing  herself  sweet, 
yielding,  receptive. 

These  melting  moods,  indeed,  were  rare.  But  no  one 
watching  the  two  on  this  February  evening  could  have 
failed  to  see  in  Diana  signs  of  happiness,  of  a  joyous  and 
growing  dependence,  of  something  that  refused  to  know 
itself,  that  masqueraded  now  as  this  feeling,  now  as  that, 
yet  was  all  the  time  stealing  upon  the  sources  of  life, 
bewitching  blood  and  brain.  Marsham  lamented  that  in 
ten  days  he  and  his  mother  must  be  in  town  for  the 
Parliamentary  season.  Diana  clearly  endeavored  to 
show  nothing  more  than  a  polite  regret.  But  in  the  half- 
laughing,  half-forlorn  requests  she  made  to  him  for  ad- 
vice in  certain  practical  matters  which  must  be  decided 
in  his  absence  she  betrayed  herself ;  and  Marsham  found 
it  amazingly  sweet  that  she  should  do  so.  He  said 
eagerly  that  he  and  Lady  Lucy  must  certainly  come 
down  to  Tallyn  every  alternate  Sunday,  so  that  the 
various  small  matters  he  had  made  Diana  intrust  to  him 


The   Testing    of    Diana    Mallorij 

—the  finding  of  a  new  gardener;  negotiations  with  the 
Vavasours,  connected  with  the  cutting  of  certain  trees — 
or  the  repairs  of  a  ruinous  gable  of  the  house — should 
still  be  carried  forward  with  all  possible  care  and  speed. 
Whereupon  Diana  inquired  how  such  things  could  pos- 
sibly engage  the  time  and  thought  of  a  politician  in 
the  full  stream  of  Parliament. 

"They  will  be  much  more  interesting  to  me,"  said 
Marsham,  in  a  low  steady  voice,  "  than  anything  I  shall 
be  doing  in  Parliament." 

Diana  rose,  in  sudden  vague  terror — as  though  with 
the  roar  in  her  ears  of  rapids  ahead — murmured  some 
stammering  thanks,  walked  across  the  room,  lowered  a 
lamp  which  was  flaming,  and  recovered  all  her  smiling 
self-possession.  But  she  talked  no  more  of  her  own  af- 
fairs. She  asked  him,  instead,  for  news  of  Miss  Vincent. 

Marsham  answered,  with  difficulty.  If  there  had  been 
sudden  alarm  in  her,  there  had  been  a  sudden  tumult  of 
the  blood  in  him.  He  had  almost  lost  his  hold  upon 
himself;  the  great  words  had  been  almost  spoken. 

But  when  the  conversation  had  been  once  more  guided 
into  normal  channels,  he  felt  that  he  had  escaped  a  risk. 
No,  no,  not  yet!  One  false  step — one  check — and  he 
might  still  find  himself  groping  in  the  dark.  Better  let 
himself  be  missed  a  little ! — than  move  too  soon.  As  to 
Roughsedge — he  had  kept  his  eyes  open.  There  was 
nothing  there. 

So  he  gave  what  news  of  Marion  Vincent  he  had  to 
give.  She  was  still  in  Bethnal  Green  working  at  her 
inquiry,  often  very  ill,  but  quite  indomitable.  As  soon 
as  Parliament  began  she  had  promised  to  do  some 
secretarial  work  for  Marsham  on  two  or  three  mornings 
a  week. 

132 


The   Testing    o*   Diana   Mallory 

"I  saw  her  last  week,"  said  Marsham.  "She  always 
asks  after  you." 

"I  am  so  glad!  I  fell  in  love  with  her.  Surely" — 
Diana  hesitated — "surely — some  day — she  will  marry 
Mr.  Frobisher?" 

Marsham  shook  his  head. 

"  I  think  she  feels  herself  too  frail." 

Diana  remembered  that  little  scene  of  intimacy — of 
tenderness — and  Marsham's  words  stirred  about  her,  as 
it  were,  winds  of  sadness  and  renunciation.  She  shivered 
under  them  a  little,  feeling,  almost  guiltily,  the  glow  of 
her  own  life,  the  passion  of  her  own  hopes. 

Marsham  watched  her  as  she  sat  on  the  other  side  of 
the  fire,  her  beautiful  head  a  little  bent  and  pensive,  the 
firelight  playing  on  the  oval  of  her  cheek.  How  glad  he 
was  that  he  had  not  spoken! — that  the  barrier  between 
them  still  held.  A  man  may  find  heaven  or  hell  on  the 
other  side  of  it.  But  merely  to  have  crossed  it  makes 
life  the  poorer.  One  more  of  the  great,  the  irrevocable 
moments  spent  and  done — yielded  to  devouring  time. 
He  hugged  the  thought  that  it  was  still  before  him.  The 
very  timidity  and  anxiety  he  felt  were  delightful  to  him; 
he  had  never  felt  them  before.  And  once  more — involun- 
tarily, disagreeably — he  thought  of  Alicia  Drake,  and  of 
the  passages  between  them  in  the  preceding  summer. 

Alicia  was  still  at  Tallyn,  and  her  presence  was,  in 
truth,  a  constant  embarrassment  to  him.  Lady  Lucy,  on 
the  contrary,  had  a  strong  sense  of  family  duty  toward 
her  young  cousin,  and  liked  to  have  her  for  long  visits  at 
Tallyn  or  in  London.  Marsham  believed  his  mother 
knew  nothing  of  the  old  flirtation  between  them.  Alicia, 
indeed,  rarely  showed  any  special  interest  in  him  now. 
He  admitted  her  general  discretion.  Yet  occasionally 

133 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

she  would  put  in  a  claim,  a  light  word,  now  mocking, 
now  caressing,  which  betrayed  the  old  intimacy,  and 
Marsham  would  wince  under  it.  It  was  like  a  creeping 
touch  in  the  dark.  He  had  known  what  it  was  to  feel 
both  compunction  and  a  kind  of  fear  with  regard  to 
Alicia.  But,  normally,  he  told  himself  that  both  feelings 
were  ridiculous.  He  had  done  nothing  to  compromise 
either  himself  or  her.  He  had  certainly  flirted  with 
Alicia;  but  he  could  not  honestly  feel  that  the  chief  part 
in  the  matter  had  been  his. 

These  thoughts  passed  in  a  flash.  The  clock  struck, 
and  regretfully  he  got  up  to  take  his  leave.  Diana  rose, 
too,  with  a  kindling  face. 

"My  cousin  will  be  here  directly!"  she  said,  joyously. 

"Shall  I  find  her  installed  when  I  come  next  time?" 

"  I  mean  to  keep  her  as  long — as  long — as  ever  I  Can!" 

Marsham  held  her  hand  close  and  warm  a  moment, 
felt  her  look  waver  a  second  beneath  his,  and  then,  with 
a  quick  and  resolute  step,  he  went  his  way. 

He  was  just  putting  on  his  coat  in  the  outer  hall 
when  there  was  a  sound  of  approaching  wheels.  A 
carriage  stopped  at  the  door,  to  which  the  butler  hurried. 
As  he  opened  it  Marsham  saw  in  the  light  of  the  porch 
lamp  the  face  of  a  girl  peering  out  of  the  carriage  window. 
It  was  a  little  awkward.  His  own  horse  was  held  by 
a  groom  on  the  other  side  of  the  carriage.  There  was 
nothing  to  do  but  to  wait  till  the  young  lady  had  passed. 
He  drew  to  one  side. 

Miss  Merton  descended.  There  was  just  time  for 
Marsham  to  notice  an  extravagant  hat,  smothered  in 
ostrich  feathers,  a  large-featured,  rather  handsome  face, 
framed  in  a  tangled  mass  of  black  hair,  a  pair  of  sharp 
eyes  that  seemed  to  take  in  hungrily  all  they  Saw — the 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

old  hall,  the  butler,  and  himself,  as  he  stood  in  the 
shadow.  He  heard  the  new  guest  speak  to  the  butler 
about  her  luggage.  Then  the  door  of  the  inner  hall 
opened,  and  he  caught  Diana's  hurrying  feet,  and  her 
cry — 

"Fanny!" 

He  passed  the  lady  and  escaped.  As  he  rode  away 
into,  the  darkness  of  the  lanes  he  was  conscious  of 
an  impression  which  had  for  the  moment  checked  the 
happy  flutter  of  blood  and  pulse.  Was  that  the  long- 
expected  cousin?  Poor  Diana!  A  common  -  looking, 
vulgar  young  woman — with  a  most  unpleasant  voice  and  JL- 
accent.  An  unpleasant  manner,  too,  to  the  servants — 
half  arrogant,  half  familiar.  What  a  hat! — and  what  a 
fringe! — worthy  of  some  young  "lidy"  in  the  Old  Kent 
Road !  The  thought  of  Diana  sitting  at  table  with  such 
a  person  on  equal  terms  pricked  him  with  annoyance;  . 
for  he  had  all  his  mother's  fastidiousness,  though  it 
showed  itself  in  different  forms.  He  blamed  Mrs.  Col- 
wood — Diana  ought  to  have  been  more  cautiously  guid- 
ed. The  thought  of  all  the  tender  preparation  made  for 
the  girl  was  both  amusing  and  repellent. 

Miss  Merton,  he  understood,  was  Diana's  cousin  on 
the  mother's  side — the  daughter  of  her  mother's  sister. 
A  swarm  of  questions  suddenly  arose  in  his  mind — 
questions  not  hitherto  entertained.  Had  there  been,  in 
fact,  a  mesalliance — some  disagreeable  story — which  ac- 
counted, perhaps,  for  the  self-banishment  of  Mr.  Mallory  ? 
— the  seclusion  in  which  Diana  had  been  brought  up  ? 
The  idea  was  most  unwelcome,  but  the  sight  of  Fanny 
Merton  had  inevitably  provoked  it.  And  it  led  on  to  a 
good  many  other  ideas  and  speculations  of  a  mingled 
sort  connected,  now  with  Diana,  now  with  recollections, 

J35 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

pleasant  and  unpleasant,  of  the  eight  or  ten  years  which 
had  preceded  his  first  sight  of  her. 

For  Oliver  Marsham  was  now  thirty-six,  and  he  had 
not  reached  that  age  without  at  least  one  serious  attempt 
— quite  apart  from  any  passages  with  Alicia  Drake — to 
provide  himself  with  a  wife.  Some  two  years  before  this 
date  he  had  proposed  to  a  pretty  girl  of  great  family  and 
no  money,  with  whom  he  supposed  himself  ardently  in 
love.  She,  after  some  hesitation,  had  refused  him,  and 
Marsham  had  had  some  reason  to  believe  that  in  spite  of 
his  mother's  great  fortune  and  his  own  expectations,  his 
provenance  had  not  been  regarded  as  sufficiently  aris- 
tocratic by  the  girl's  fond  parents.  Perhaps  had  he — 
and  not  Lady  Lucy — been  the  owner  of  Tallyn  and  its 
£18,000  a  year,  things  might  have  been  different.  As 
it  was,  Marsham  had  felt  the  affront,  as  a  strong  and  self- 
confident  man  was  likely  to  feel  it ;  and  it  was  perhaps  in 
reaction  from  it  that  he  had  allowed  himself  those  pas- 
sages with  Alicia  Drake  which  had,  at  least,  soothed  his 
self-love. 

In  this  affair  Marsham  had  acted  on  one  of  the  con- 
victions with  which  he  had  entered  public  life — that  there 
is  no  greater  help  to  a  politician  than  a  distinguished, 
clever,  and,  if  possible,  beautiful  wife.  Distinction, 
Radical  though  he  was,  had  once  seemed  to  him  a 
matter  of  family  and  "connection."  But  after  the 
failure  of  his  first  attempt,  "family,"  in  the  ordinary 
sense,  had  ceased  to  attract  him.  Personal  breeding, 
intelligence,  and  charm — these,  after  all,  are  what  the 
politician  who  is  already  provided  with  money,  wants  to 
secure  in  his  wife;  without,  of  course,  any  obvious  dis- 
qualification in  the  way  of  family  history.  Diana,  as  he 
had  first  met  her  among  the  woods  at  Portofino,  side  by 

136 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

side  with  her  dignified  and  gentlemanly  father,  had  made 
upon  him  precisely  that  impression  of  personal  distinc- 
tion of  which  he  was  in  search — upon  his  mother  also. 

The  appearance  and  the  accent,  however,  of  the 
cousin  had  struck  him  with  surprise;  nor  was  it  till  he 
was  nearing  Tallyn  that  he  succeeded  in  shaking  off  the 
impression.  Absurd!  Everybody  has  some  relations 
that  require  to  be  masked — like  the  stables,  or  the  back 
door — in  a  skilful  arrangement  of  life.  Diana,  his  beau- 
tiful, unapproachable  Diana,  would  soon,  no  doubt,  be 
relieved  of  this  young  lady,  with  whom  she  could  have 
no  possible  interests  in  common.  And,  perhaps,  on  one 
of  his  week-end  visits  to  Tallyn  and  Beechcote,  he  might 
get  a  few  minutes'  conversation  with  Mrs.  Colwood  which 
would  throw  some  light  on  the  new  guest. 

Diana  meanwhile,  assisted  by  Mrs.  Colwood,  was 
hovering  about  her  cousin.  She  and  Miss  Merton  had 
kissed  each  other  in  the  hall,  and  then  Diana,  seized 
with  a  sudden  shyness,  led  her  guest  into  the  drawing- 
room  and  stood  there  speechless,  a  little;  holding  her  by 
both  hands  and  gazing  at  her;  mastered  by  feeling  and 
excitement. 

"Well,  you  have  got  a  queer  old  place!"  said  Fanny 
Merton,  withdrawing  herself.  She  turned  and  looked 
about  her,  at  the  room,  the  flowers,  the  wide  hearth,  with 
its  blazing  logs,  at  Mrs.  Colwood,  and  finally  at  Diana. 

"We  are  so  fond  of  it  already!"  said  Diana.  "Come 
and  get  warm."  She  settled  her  guest  in  a  chair  by  the 
fire,  and  took  a  stool  beside  her.  "  Did  you  like  Devon- 
shire?" 

The  girl  made  a  little  face. 

"It  was  awfully  quiet.  Oh,  my  friends,  of  course, 
"  137 


The   Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

made  a  lot  of  fuss  over  me — and  that  kind  of  thing.   But 
I  wouldn't  live  there,  not  if  you  paid  me." 

"We're  very  quiet  here,"  said  Diana,  timidly.  She 
was  examining  the  face  beside  her,  with  it's  bright  crude 
color,  its  bold  eyes,  and  sulky  mouth,  slightly  underhung. 

"  Oh,  well,  you've  got  some  good  families  about,  I  guess. 
I  saw  one  or  two  awfully  smart  carriages  waiting  at  the 
station." 

"There  are  a  good  many  nice  people,"  murmured 
Diana.  "But  there  is  not  much  going  on." 

"  I  expect  you  could  invite  a  good  many  here  if  you 
wanted,"  said  the  girl,  once  more  looking  round  her. 
"Whatever  made  you  take  this  place?" 

"  I  like  old  things  so  much,"  laughed  Diana.  "  Don't 
you?" 

"  Well,  I  don't  know.  I  think  there's  more  style  about 
a  new  house.  You  can  have  electric  light  and  all  that 
sort  of  thing." 

Diana  admitted  it,  and  changed  the  subject.  "  Had 
the  journey  been  cold?" 

Freezing,  said  Miss  Merton.  But  a  young  man  had 
lent  her  his  fur  coat  to  put  over  her  knees,  which  had 
improved  matters.  She  laughed — rather  consciously. 

"  He  lives  near  here.  I  told  him  I  was  sure  you'd  ask 
him  to  something,  if  he  called." 

"Who  was  he?" 

With  much  rattling  of  the  bangles  on  her  wrists, 
Fanny  produced  a  card  from  her  hand-bag.  Diana  looked 
at  it  in  dismay.  It  was  the  card  of  a  young  solicitor 
whom  she  had  once  met  at  a  local  tea-party,  and  decided 
to  avoid  thenceforward. 

She  said  nothing,  however,  and  plunged  into  inquiries 
as  to  her  aunt  and  cousins. 

138 


The   Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

"Oh!  they're  all  right.  Mother's  worried  out  of  her 
life  about  money;  but,  then,  we've  always  been  that  poor 
you  couldn't  skin  a  cent  off  us,  so  that's  nothing  new." 

Diana  murmured  sympathy.  She  knew  vagtiely  that 
her  father  had  done  a  good  deal  to  subsidize  these  rela- 
tions. She  could  only  suppose  that  in  his  ignorance  he 
had  not  done  enough. 

Meanwhile  Fanny  Merton  had  fixed  her  eyes  upon 
Diana  with  a  curious  hostile  look,  almost  a  stare,  which 
had  entered  them  as  she  spoke  of  the  family  poverty,  and 
persisted  as  they  travelled  from  Diana's  face  and  figure  to 
the  pretty  and  spacious  room  beyond.  She  examined 
everything,  in  a  swift  keen  scrutiny,  and  then  as  the 
pouncing  glance  came  back  to  her  cousin,  the  girl  sud- 
denly exclaimed: 

"Goodness!  but  you  are  like  Aunt  Sparling!" 

Diana  flushed  crimson.  She  drew  back  and  said, 
hurriedly,  to  Mrs.  Colwood: 

"  Muriel,  would  you  see  if  they  have  taken  the  luggage 
up-stairs?" 

Mrs.  Colwood  went  at  once. 

Fanny  Merton  had  herself  changed  color,  and  looked 
a  little  embarrassed.  She  did  not  repeat  her  remark^  but 
began  to  take  her  furs  off,  to  smooth  her  hair  deliberately, 
and  settle  her  bracelets.  Diana  came  nearer  to  her  &s 
soon  as  they  were  alone. 

"Do  you  really  think  I  am  like  mamma?"  she  said, 
tremulously,  all  her  eyes  fixed  upon  her  cousin. 

"Well,  of  course  I  never  saw  her!"  said  Miss  Merton, 
looking  down  at  the  fire.  "  How  could  I  ?  But  mother 
has  a  picture  of  her,  and  you're  as  like  as  two  peas." 

"  I  never  saw  any  picture  of  mamma,"  said  Diana;  "  I 
don't  know  at  all  what  she  was  like." 

139 


The   Testing   of   Diana   Mallorg 

"Ah,  well — "  said  Miss  Merton,  still  looking  down. 
Then  she  stopped,  and  said  no  more.  She  took  out  her 
handkerchief,  and  began  to  rub  a  spot  of  mud  off  her 
dress.  It  seemed  to  Diana  that  her  manner  was  a  little 
strange,  and  rather  rude.  But  she  had  made  up  her 
mind  there  would  be  peculiarities  in  Fanny,  and  she  did 
not  mean  to  be  repelled  by  them. 

"Shall  I  take  you  to  your  room?"  she  said.  "You 
must  be  tired,  and  we  shall  be  dining  directly." 

Miss  Merton  allowed  herself  to  be  led  up-stairs,  look- 
ing curiously  round  her  at  every  step. 

"I  say,  you  must  be  well  off!"  she  burst  out,  as  they 
came  to  the  head  of  the  stairs,  "  or  you'd  never  be  able  to 
run  a  place  like  this!" 

"Papa  left  me  all  his  money,"  said  Diana,  coloring 
again.  "  I  hope  he  wouldn't  have  thought  it  extrav- 
agant." 

She  passed  on  in  front  of  her  guest,  holding  a  candle. 
Fanny  Merton  followed.  At  Diana's  statement  as  to  her 
father's  money  the  girl's  face  had  suddenly  resumed  its 
sly  hostility.  And  as  Diana  walked  before  her,  Miss 
Merton  again  examined  the  house,  the  furniture,  the 
pictures;  but  this  time,  and  unknown  to  Diana,  with 
the  air  of  one  half  jealous  and  half  contemptuous  of 
all  she  saw. 


Part  II 


The  soberest  saints  are  more  stiff-necked 
Than   the  hottest-headed  of  the  wicked." 


CHAPTER  VII 

I  SHALL    soon   be  back,"   said  Diana — "very  soon. 
I'll  just  take  this  book   to   Dr.  Roughsedge.      You 
don't  mind?" 

The  question  was  addressed — in  a  deprecatory  tone — 
to  Mrs.  Colwood,  who  stood  beside  her  at  the  Beechcote 
front  door. 

Muriel  Colwood  smiled,  and  drew  the  furs  closer  round 
the  girl's  slim  throat. 

"  I  shall  mind  very  much  if  you  don't  stay  out  a  full 
hour  and  get  a  good  walk." 

Diana  ran  off,  followed  by  her  dog.  There  was  some- 
thing in  the  manner  both  of  the  dog  and  its  mistress  that 
seemed  to  show  impetuous  escape — and  relief. 

"She  looks  tired  out!"  said  the  little  companion  to 
herself,  as  she  turned  to  enter  the  hall.  "  How  on  earth 
is  she  going  to  get  through  six  weeks  of  it? — or  six 
months!" 

The  house  as  she  walked  back  through  it  made  upon 
her  the  odd  impression  of  having  suddenly  lost  some  of 
its  charm.  The  peculiar  sentiment — as  of  a  warmly 
human,  yet  delicately  ordered  life,  which  it  had  breathed 
out  so  freely  only  twenty-four  hours  before,  seemed  to 
her  quick  feeling  to  have  been  somehow  obscured  or 
dissipated.  All  its  defects,  old  or  new — the  patches 
in  the  panelling,  the  darkness  of  the  passages — stood 
out. 

143 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

And  "all  along  of  Eliza!"  All  because  of  Miss  Fanny 
Merton !  Mrs.  Colwood  recalled  the  morning — Miss  Mer- 
ton's  late  arrival  at  the  breakfast- table,  and  the  discov- 
ery from  her  talk  that  she  was  accustomed  to  breakfast 
in  bed,  waited  upon  by  her  younger  sisters;  her  conver- 
sation at  breakfast,  partly  about  the  prices  of  clothes 
and  eatables,  partly  in  boasting  reminiscence  of  her  win- 
nings at  cards,  or  in  sweepstakes  on  the  "run,"  on  board 
the  steamer.  Diana  had  then  devoted  herself  to  the  dis- 
play of  the  house,  and  her  maid  had  helped  Miss  Merton 
to  unpack.  The  process  had  been  diversified  by  raids 
made  by  Miss  Fanny  on  Diana's  own  wardrobe,  which  she 
had  inspected  from  end  to  end,  to  an  accompaniment  of 
critical  remark.  According  to  her,  there  was  very  little 
that  was  really  "shick"  in  it,  and  Diana  should  change 
her  dressmaker.  The  number  of  her  own  dresses  was 
large;  and  as  to  their  colors  and  make,  Mrs.  Colwood, 
who  had  helped  to  put  away  some  of  them,  could  only 
suppose  that  tropical  surroundings  made  tropical  tastes. 
At  the  same  time  the  contrast  between  Miss  Fanny's 
wardrobe,  and  what  she  herself  reported,  in  every  tone 
of  grievance  and  disgust,  of  the  family  poverty,  was 
surprising,  though  no  doubt  a  great  deal  of  the  finery 
had  been  as  cheaply  bought  as  possible. 

By  luncheon-time  Diana  had  shown  some  symptoms 
of  fatigue,  perhaps — Mrs.  Colwood  hoped! — of  revolt. 
She  had  been  already  sharply  questioned  as  to  the  num- 
ber of  servants  she  kept  and  the  wages  they  received, 
as  to  the  people  in  the  neighborhood  who  gave  parties, 
and  the  ages  and  incomes  of  such  young  or  unmarried 
men  as  might  be  met  with  at  these  parties.  Miss  Merton 
had  boasted  already  of  two  love-affairs  —  one  the  un- 
successful engagement  in  Barbadoes,  the  other — "a 

144 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

near  thing" — which  had  enlivened  the  voyage  to  Eng- 
land; and  she  had  extracted  a  promise  from  Diana  to 
ask  the  young  solicitor  she  had  met  with  in  the  train — 
Mr.  Fred  Birch — to  lunch,  without  delay.  Meanwhile 
she  had  not — of  her  own  initiative — said  one  word  of 
those  educational  objects,  in  pursuit  of  which  she  was 
supposed  to  have  come  to  England.  Diana  had  pro- 
posed to  her  the  names  of  certain  teachers  both  of  music 
and  languages — names  which  she  had  obtained  with  much 
trouble.  Miss  Fanny  had  replied,  rather  carelessly,  that 
she  would  think  about  it. 

It  was  at  this  that  the  eager 'sweetness  of  Diana's 
manner  to  her  cousin  had  shown  its  first  cooling.  And 
Mrs.  Colwood  had  curiously  observed  that  at  the  first 
sign  of  shrinking  on  her  part,  Miss  Fanny's  demeanor 
had  instantly  changed.  It  had  become  sugared  and 
flattering  to  a  degree.  Everything  in  the  house  was 
"sweet";  the  old  silver  used  at  table,  with  the  Mallory 
crest,  was  praised  extravagantly;  the  cooking  no  less. 
Yet  still  Diana's  tired  silence  had  grown;  and  the  watch- 
ing eyes  of  this  amazing  young  woman  had  been,  in  Mrs. 
Colwood' s  belief,  now  insolently  and  now  anxiously, 
aware  of  it. 

Insolence! — that  really,  if  one  came  to  think  of  it, 
had  been  the  note  of  Miss  Merton's  whole  behavior  from 
the  beginning — an  ill-concealed,  hardly  restrained  in- 
solence, toward  the  girl,  two  years  older  than  herself, 
who  had  received  her  with  such  tender  effusion,  and  was, 
moreover,  in  a  position  to  help  her  so  materially.  What 
could  it — what  did  it  mean? 

Mrs.  Colwood  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs  a  moment, 
lost  in  a  trance  of  wonderment.  Her  heart  was  really 
sore  for  Diana's  disappointment,  for  the  look  in  her  face, 

145 


The   Testing   of    Diana    Mallory 

as  she  left  the  house.     How  on  earth  could  the  visit  be 
shortened  and  the  young  lady  removed  ? 

The  striking  of  three  o'clock  reminded  Muriel  Colwood 
that  she  was  to  take  the  new-comer  out  for  an  hour. 
They  had  taken  coffee  in  the  morning-room  up-stairs, 
Diana's  own  sitting-room,  where  she  wrote  her  letters 
and  followed  out  the  lines  of  reading  her  father  had  laid 
down  for  her.  Mrs.  Colwood  returned  thither;  found 
Miss  Merton,  as  it  seemed  to  her,  in  the  act  of  examining 
the  letters  in  Diana's  blotting-book ;  and  hastily  proposed 
to  her  to  take  a  turn  in  the  garden. 

Fanny  Merton  hesitated,  looked  at  Mrs.  Colwood  a 
moment  dubiously,  and  finally  walked  up  to  her. 

"Oh,  I  don't  care  about  going  out,  it's  so  cold  and 
nasty.  And,  besides,  I — I  want  to  talk  to  you." 

"Miss  Mallory  thought  you  might  like  to  see  the  old 
gardens,"  said  Mrs.  Colwood.  "  But  if  you  would  rather 
not  venture  out,  I'm  afraid  I  must  go  and  write  some 
letters." 

"  Why,  you  were  writing  letters  all  the  morning !  My 
fingers  would  drop  off  if  I  was  to  go  on  at  it  like  that. 
Do  you  like  being  a  companion  ?  I  should  think  it  was 
rather  beastly — if  you  ask  me.  At  home  they  did  talk 
about  it  for  me.  But  I  said:  '  No,  thank  you!  My  own 
mistress,  if  you  please!'" 

The  speaker  sat  down  by  the  fire,  raised  her  skirt  of 
purple  cloth, -and  stretched  a  pair  of  shapely  feet  to  the 
warmth.  Her  look  was  good-humored  and  lazy. 

"  I  am  very  happy  here,"  said  Mrs.  Colwood,  quietly. 
"Miss  Mallory  is  so  charming  and  so  kind." 

Miss  Fanny  cleared  her  throat,  poked  the  fire  with  the 
tip  of  her  shoe,  fidgeted  with  her  dress,  and  finally  said 
— abruptly : 

146 


The    Testing   oil    Diana    Mallory 

"I  say — have  all  the  people  about  here  called?" 

The  tone  was  so  low  and  furtive  that  Mrs.  Col  wood, 
who  had  been  putting  away  some  embroidery  silks  which 
had  been  left  on  the  table  by  Diana,  turned  in  some 
astonishment.  She  found  the  girl's  eyes  fixed  upon  her 
— eager  and  hungry. 

"Miss  Mallory  has  had  a  great  many  visitors" — she 
tried  to  pitch  her  words  in  the  lightest  possible  tone — "  I 
am  afraid  it  will  take  her  a  long  time  to  return  all  her 
calls." 

"Well,  I'm  glad  it's  all  right  about  that! — anyway. 
As  mamma  said,  you  never  know.  People  are  so  queer 
about  these  things,  aren't  they?  As  if  it  was  Diana's 
fault!" 

Through  all  her  wrath,  Muriel  Colwood  was  conscious 
of  a  sudden  pang  of  alarm — which  was,  in  truth,  the 
reawakening  of  something  already  vaguely  felt  or  sur- 
mised. She  looked  rather  sternly  at  her  companion. 

"  I  really  don't  know  what  you  mean,  Miss  Merton. 
And  I  never  discuss  Miss  Mallory's  affairs.  Perhaps  you 
will  kindly  allow  me  to  go  to  my  letters." 

She  was  moving  away  when  the  girl  beside  her  laugh- 
ed again  —  rather  angrily  —  and  Mrs.  Colwood  paused, 
touched  again  by  instinctive  fear. 

"  Oh,  of  course  if  I'm  not  to  say  a  word  about  it — I'm 
not — that's  all!  Well,  now,  look  here — Diana  needn't 
suppose  that  I've  come  all  this  way  just  for  fun.  I  had 
to  say  that  about  lessons,  and  that  kind  of  thing — I  didn't 
want  to  set  her  against  me — but  I've  .  .  .  Well! — why 
should  I  be  ashamed,  I  should  like  to  know  ?" — she  broke 
out,  shrilly,  sitting  erect,  her  face  flushing  deeply,  her 
eyes  on  fire.  "  If  some  one  owes  you  something — why 
shouldn't  you  come  and  get  it  ?  Diana  owes  my  mother 

147 


The   Testing    of   Diana   Mallorg 

money! — a.  lot  of  money! — and  we  can't  afford  to  lose 
it.  Mother's  awfully  sweet  about  Diana — she  said,  '  Oh 
no,  it's  unkind' — but  I  say  it's  unkind  to  us,  not  to 
speak,  when  we  all  want  money  so  bad — and  there  are 
the  boys  to  bring  up — and — 

"Miss  Merton — I'm  very  sorry — but  really  I  cannot 
let  you  talk  to  me  of  Miss  Mallory's  private  affairs.  It 
would  neither  be  right — nor  honorable.  You  must  see 
that.  She  will  be  in  by  tea-time  herself.  Please ! — 

Muriel's  tone  was  gentle;  but  her  attitude  was  resolu- 
tion itself.  Fanny  Merton  stared  at  the  frail  slim  creat- 
ure in  her  deep  widow's  black ;  her  color  rose. 

"Oh,  very  well.  Do  as  you  like!  —  I'm  agreeable! 
Only  I  thought  perhaps — as  you  and  Diana  seem  to  be 
such  tremendous  friends — you'd  like  to  talk  it  over  with 
me  first.  I  don't  know  how  much  Diana  knows;  and  I 
thought  perhaps  you'd  give  me  a  hint.  Of  course,  she'll 
know  all  there  was  in  the  papers.  But  my  mother  claims 
a  deal  more  than  the  trust  money — jewels,  and  that  kind 
of  thing.  And  Uncle  Mallory  treated  us  shamefully 
about  them — shamefully!  That's  why  I'm  come  over. 
I  made  mother  let  me!  Oh,  she's  so  soft,  is  mother,  she'd 
let  anybody  off.  But  I  said,  '  Diana's  rich,  and  she  ought 
to  make  it  up  to  us!  If  nobody  else  '11  ask  her,  I  will!'  ' 

The  girl  had  grown  pale,  but  it  was  a  pallor  of  de- 
termination and  of  passion.  Mrs.  Colwood  had  listened 
to  the  torrent  of  words,  held  against  her  will,  first  by 
astonishment,  then  by  something  else.  If  it  should  be 
her  duty  to  listen  ? — for  the  sake  of  this  young  life,  which 
in  these  few  weeks  had  so  won  upon  her  heart? 

She  retraced  a  few  steps. 

"Miss  Merton,  I  do  not  understand  what  you  have 
been  saying.  If  you  have  any  claim  upon  Miss  Mallory, 

148 


The   Testing   of   Diana   Mallory 

you  know  well  that  she  is  the  soul  of  honor  and  gen- 
erosity. Her  one  desire  is  to  give  everybody  more  than 
their  due.  She  is  too  generous — I  often  have  to  protect 
her.  But,  as  I  have  said  before,  it  is  not  for  me  to  dis- 
cuss any  claim  you  may  have  upon  her." 

Fanny  Merton  was  silent  for  a  minute — staring  at  her 
companion.  Then  she  said,  abruptly: 

"Does  she  ever  talk  to  you  about  Aunt  Sparling?" 

"Her  mother?" 

The  girl  nodded. 

Mrs.  Colwood  hesitated — then  said,  unwillingly  :  "  No. 
She  has  mentioned  her  once  or  twice.  One  can  see  how 
she  missed  her  as  a  child — how  she  misses  her  still." 

"Well,  I  don't  know  what  call  she  has  to  miss  her!" 
cried  Fanny  Merton,  in  a  note  of  angry  scorn.  "  A  pre- 
cious good  thing  she  died  when  she  did — for  everybody." 

Mrs.  Colwood  felt  her  hands  trembling.  In  the  grow- 
ing darkness  of  the  winter  afternoon  it  seemed  to  her 
startled  imagination  as  though  this  black-eyed  black- 
browed  girl,  with  her  scowling  passionate  face,  were 
entering  into  possession  of  the  house  and  of  Diana — an 
evil  and  invading  power.  She  tried  to  choose  her  words 
carefully. 

"  Miss  Mallory  has  never  talked  to  me  of  her  parents. 
And,  if  you  will  excuse  me,  Miss  Merton — if  there  is  any- 
thing sad — or  tragic — in  their  history,  I  would  rather 
hear  it  from  Miss  Mallory  than  from  you!" 

"  Anything  sad  ?  —  anything  sad  ?  Well,  upon  my 
word!—" 

The  girl  breathed  fast.  So,  involuntarily,  did  Mrs. 
Colwood. 

"You  don't  mean  to  say" — the  speaker  threw  her 
body  forward,  and  brought  her  face  close  to  Mrs.  Col- 

149 


^he   Testing   of    Diana    Mallorg 

wood — "you  are  not  going  to  tell  me  that  you  don't 
know  about  Diana's  mother?" 

She  laid  her  hand  upon  Muriel's  dress. 

''Why  should  I  know?  Please,  Miss  Merton!"  and 
with  a  resolute  movement  Mrs.  Colwood  tried  to  with- 
draw her  dress. 

"  Why,  everybody  knows !  —  everybody !  —  everybody ! 
Ask  anybody  in  the  world  about  Juliet  Sparling — and 
you'll  see.  In  the  saloon,  coming  over,  J  heard  people 
talk  about  her  all  one  night — they  didn't  know  who  / 
was — and  of  course  I  didn't  telj.  And  there  was  a  book 
in  the  ship's  library — Fqmons  Trials — or  some  name 
of  that  sort — with  the  whole  thing  in  it.  You  don't 
know — about — Diana's  mother  ?" 

The  fierce,  incredulous  emphasis  on  the  last  word, 
for  a  moment,  withered  all  reply  on  Mrs.  Colwood's  lips. 
She  walked,  to  the  door  mechanically,  to  see  that  it  was 
fast  shut.  Then  she  returned.  She  sat  down  beside 
Diana's  guest,  and  it  might  have  been  seen  that  she  had 
silenced  fear  and  dismissed  hesitation.  "After  all," 
she  said,  with  quiet  command,  "  I  think  I  will  ask  you, 
Miss  Merton,  to  explain,  what  you  mean?" 

The  February  afternoon  darkened  round  the  old  house. 
There  was  a  light  powdering  of  snow  on  grass  and  trees. 
Yet  still  there  were  breathings  and  bird-notes  in  the 
air,  and  tones  of  color  in  the  distance,  which  obscurely 
prophesied  the  spring.  Through  the  wood  behind  the 
house  the  snow-drops  were  rising,  in  a  white  invading 
host,  over  the  ground  covered  with  the  red-brown  deposit 
of  innumerable  autumns.  Above  their  glittering  white, 
rose  an  undergrowth  of  laurels  and  box,  through  which 
again  shot  up  the  magnificent  trunks — gray  and  smooth 

150 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

and  round — of  the  great  beeches,  which  held  and  peopled 
the  country-side,  heirs  of  its  ancestral  forest.  Any  one 
standing  in  the  wood  could  see,  through  the  leafless  trees, 
the  dusky  blues  and  rich  violets  of  the  encircling  hill — 
hung  there,  like  the  tapestry  of  some  vast  hall;  or  hear 
from  time  to  time  the  loud  wings  of  the  wood-pigeons 
as  they  clattered  through  the  topmost  boughs. 

Diana  was  still  in  the  village.  She  had  been  spend- 
ing her  hour  of  escape  mostly  with  the  Roughsedges. 
The  old  doctor  among  his  books  was  now  sufficiently  at 
his  ease  with  her  to  pet  her,  teach  her,  and,  when  neces- 
sary, laugh  at  her.  And  Mrs.  Roughsedge,  however  she 
might  feel  herself  eclipsed  by  Lady  Lucy,  was,  in  truth, 
much  more  fit  to  minister  to  such  ruffled  feelings  as 
Diana  was  now  conscious  of  than  that  delicate  and 
dignified  lady.  Diana's  disillusion  about  her  cousin  was, 
so  far,  no  very  lofty  matter.  It  hurt;  but  on  her  run  to 
the  village  the  natural  common-sense  Mrs.  Colwood  had 
detected  had  wrestled  stoutly  with  her  wounded  feelings. 
Better  take  it  with  a  laugh!  To  laugh,  however,  one 
must  be  distracted;  and  Mrs.  Roughsedge,  bubbling  over 
with  gossip  and  good-humor,  was  distraction  personified. 
Stern  Justice,  in  the  person  of  Lord  M.'s  gamekeeper,  had 
that  morning  brought  back  Diana's  two  dogs  in  leash,  a 
pair  of  abject  and  convicted  villains,  from  the  delirium  of 
a  night's  hunting.  The  son  of  Miss  Bertram's  coachman 
had  only  just  missed  an  appointment  under  the  District 
Council  by  one  place  on  the  list  of  candidates.  A  "  Red 
Van"  bursting  with  Socialist  literature  had  that  morning 
taken  up  its  place  on  the  village  green;  and  Diana's  poor 
housemaid,  in  payment  for  a  lifetime's  neglect,  must  now 
lose  every  tooth  in  her  head,  according  to  the  verdict  of 
the  local  dentist,  an  excellent  young  man,  in  Mrs.  Rough- 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

sedge's  opinon,  but  ready  to  give  you  almost  too  much 
pulling  out  for  your  money.  On  all  these  topics  she  over- 
flowed— with  much  fun  and  unfailing  good-humor.  So 
that  after  half  an  hour  spent  with  Mrs.  Roughsedge  and 
Hugh  in  the  little  drawing-room  at  the  White  Cottage, 
Diana's  aspect  was  very  different  from  what  it  had  been 
when  she  arrived. 

Hugh,  however,  had  noticed  her  pallor  and  depression. 
He  was  obstinately  certain  that  Oliver  Marsham  was  not 
the  man  to  make  such  a  girl  happy.  Between  the  rich 
Radical  member  and  the  young  officer — poor,  slow  of 
speech  and  wits,  and  passionately  devoted  to  the  old- 
fashioned  ideals  and  traditions  in  which  he  had  been 
brought  up  —  there  was  a  natural  antagonism.  But 
Roughsedge 's  contempt  for  his  brilliant  and  successful 
neighbor — on  the  ground  of  selfish  ambitions  and  un- 
patriotic trucklings — was,  in  truth,  much  more  active 
than  anything  Marsham  had  ever  shown  —  or  felt  — 
toward  himself.  For  in  the  young  soldier  there  slept 
potentialities  of  feeling  and  of  action,  of  which  neither 
he  nor  others  were  as  yet  aware. 

Nevertheless,  he  faced  the  facts.  He  remembered  the 
look  with  which  Diana  had  returned  to  the  Beechcote 
drawing-room,  where  Marsham  awaited  her,  the  day 
before — and  told  himself  not  to  be  a  fool. 

Meanwhile  he  had  found  an  opportunity  in  which  to 
tell  her,  unheard  by  his  parents,  that  he  was  practically 
certain  of  his  Nigerian  appointment,  and  must  that  night 
break  it  to  his  father  and  mother.  And  Diana  had 
listened  like  a  sister,  all  sympathy  and  kind  looks,  prom- 
ising in  the  young  man's  ear,  as  he  said  good-bye  at  the 
garden  gate,  that  she  would  come  again  next  day  to 
cheer  his  mother  up. 

152 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

He  stood  looking  after  her  as  she  walked  away;  his 
hands  in  his  pockets,  a  flush  on  his  handsome  face. 
How  her  coming  had  glorified  and  transformed  the  place! 
No  womanish  nonsense,  too,  about  this  going  of  his! — 
though  she  knew  well  that  it  meant  fighting.  Only  a 
kindling  of  the  eyes — a  few  questions  as  practical  as  they 
were  eager — and  then  that  fluttering  of  the  soft  breath 
which  he  had  noticed  as  she  bent  over  his  mother. 

But  she  was  not  for  him!  Thus  it  is  that  women — 
the  noblest  and  the  dearest — throw  themselves  away. 
She,  with  all  the  right  and  proper  feelings  of  an  English- 
woman, to  mate  with  this  plausible  Radical  and  Little 
Englander!  Hugh  kicked  the  stones  of  the  gravel 
savagely  to  right  and  left  as  he  walked  back  to  the 
house — in  a  black  temper  with  his  poverty  and  Diana's 
foolishness. 

But  was  she  really  in  love  ?  "  Why  then  so  pale,  fond 
lover?"  He  found  a  kind  of  angry  comfort  in  the  re- 
membrance of  her  drooping  looks.  They  were  no  credit 
to  Mar  sham,  anyway. 

Meanwhile  Diana  walked  home,  lingering  by  the  way 
in  two  or  three  cottages.  She  was  shyly  beginning  to 
make  friends  with  the  people.  An  old  road-mender  kept 
her  listening  while  he  told  her  how  a  Tallyn  keeper  had 
peppered  him  in  the  eye,  ten  years  before,  as  he  was 
crossing  Barrow  Common  at  dusk.  One  eye  had  been 
taken  out,  and  the  other  was  almost  useless;  there  he 
sat,  blind,  and  cheerfully  telling  the  tale — "Muster 
Marsham — Muster  Henry  Marsham — had  been  verra 
kind — ten  shillin'  a  week,  and  an  odd  job  now  and  then. 
I  do  suffer  terr'ble,  miss,  at  times — but  ther's  noa  good 
in  grumblin' — is  there?" 

Next  door,  in  a  straggling  line  of  cottages,  she  found 
"  153 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

a  gentle,  chattering  widow  whose  husband  had  been 
drowned  in  the  brew-house  at  Beechcote  twenty  years 
before,  drowned  in  the  big  vat! — before  any  one  had 
heard  a  cry  or  a  sound.  The  widow  was  proud  of  so 
exceptional  a  tragedy ;  eager  to  tell  the  tale.  How  had 
she  lived  since  ?  Oh,  a  bit  here  and  a  bit  there.  And,  of 
late,  half  a  crown  from  the  parish. 

Last  of  all,  in  a  cottage  midway  between  the  village 
and  Beechcote,  she  paused  to  see  a  jolly  middle-aged 
woman,  with  a  humorous  eye  and  a  stream  of  conversa- 
tion— held  prisoner  by  an  incurable  disease.  She  was 
absolutely  alone  in  the  world.  Nobody  knew  what  she 
had  to  live  on.  But  she  could  always  find  a  crust  for 
some  one  more  destitute  than  herself,  and  she  ranked 
high  among  the  wits  of  the  village.  To  Diana  she  talked 
of  her  predecessors — the  Vavasours — whose  feudal  pres- 
ence seemed  to  be  still  brooding  over  the  village.  With 
little  chuckles  of  laughter,  she  gave  instance  after  instance 
of  the  tyranny  with  which  they  had  lorded  it  over  the 
country-side  in  early  Victorian  days:  how  the  "  Madam 
Vavasour"  of  those  days  had  pulled  the  feathers  from  the 
village-girls'  hats,  and  turned  a  family  who  had  offended 
her,  with  all  their  belongings,  out  into  the  village  street. 
But  when  Diana  rejoiced  that  such  days  were  done,  the 
old  woman  gave  a  tolerant:  "Noa — noa!  They  were 
none  so  bad — were  t'  Vavasours.  Only  they  war  no 
good  at  heirin." 

"Airing?"  said  Diana,  mystified. 

"  Heirin,"  repeated  Betty  Dyson,  emphatically.  "  Theer 
was  old  Squire  Henry — wi'  noabody  to  follow  'im — an' 
Mr.  Edward  noa  better — and  now  thissun,  wi  nobbut 
lasses.  Noa — they  war  noa  good  at  heirin — moor's  t' 
pity."  Then  she  looked  slyly  at  her  companion:  "An' 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallorg 

yo',  miss?  yo'll  be  gettin'  married  one  o'  these  days,  I'll 
uphowd  yer." 

Diana  colored  and  laughed. 

"Ay,"  said  the  old  woman,  laughing  too,  with  the 
merriment  of  a  girl.  "  Sweethearts  is  noa  good — but  you 
mun  ha'  a  sweetheart!" 

Diana  fled,  pursued  by  Betty's  raillery,  and  then  by 
the  thought  of  this  lonely  laughing  woman,  often  tor- 
mented by  pain,  standing  on  the  brink  of  ugly  death,  and 
yet  turning  back  to  look  with  this  merry  indulgent  eye 
upon  the  past;  and  on  this  dingy  old  world,  in  which  she 
had  played  so  ragged  and  limping  a  part.  *  Yet  clearly  she 
would  play  it  again  if  she  could — so  sweet  is  mere  life ! — 
and  so  hard  to  silence  in  the  breast! 

Diana  walked  quickly  through  the  woods,  the  prey  of 
one  of  those  vague  storms  of  feeling  which  test  and 
stretch  the  soul  of  youth. 

To  what  horrors  had  she  been  listening  ? — the  suffering 
of  the  blinded  road-mender — the  grotesque  and  hideous 
death  of  the  young  laborer  in  his  full  strength — the 
griefs  of  a  childless  and  penniless  old  woman  ?  Yet  life 
had  somehow  engulfed  the  horrors;  and  had  spread  its 
quiet  waves  above  them,  under  a  pale,  late-born  sun- 
shine. The  stoicism  of  the  poor  rebuked  her,  as  she 
thought  of  the  sharp  impatience  and  disappointment 
in  which  she  had  parted  from  Mrs.  Colwood. 

She  seemed  to  hear  her  father's  voice.  "  No  shirking, 
Diana!  You  asked  her — you  formed  absurd  and  exag- 
gerated expectations.  She  is  here;  and  she  is  not  re- 
sponsible for  your  expectations.  Make  the  best  of  her, 
and  do  your  duty!" 

And  eagerly  the  child's  heart  answered :  "  Yes,  yes, 
papa! — dear  papal" 


The    Testing    of   Diana   Mallorij 

And  there,  sharp  in  color  and  line,  it  rose  on  the 
breast  of  memory,  the  beloved  face.  It  set  pulses  beat- 
ing in  Diana  which  from  her  childhood  onward  had 
been  a  life  within  her  life,  a  pain  answering  to  pain,  the 
child's  inevitable  response  to  the  father's  misery,  always 
discerned,  never  understood. 

This  abiding  remembrance  of  a  dumb  unmitigable 
grief  beside  which  she  had  grown  up,  of  which  she  had 
never  known  the  secret,  was  indeed  one  of  the  main 
factors  in  Diana's  personality.  Muriel  Colwood  had  at 
once  perceived  it;  Marsham  had  been  sometimes  puzzled 
by  the  signs  of  it. 

To-day — because  of  Fanny  and  this  toppling  of  her 
dreams — the  dark  mood,  to  which  Diana  was  always 
liable,  had  descended  heavily  upon  her.  She  had  no 
sooner  rebuked  it — by  the  example  of  the  poor,  or  the 
remembrance  of  her  father's  long  patience — than  she 
was  torn  by  questions,  vehement,  insistent,  full  of  a 
new  anguish. 

Why  had  her  father  been  so  unhappy?  What  was 
the  meaning  of  that  cloud  under  which  she  had  grown 
up? 

She  had  repeated  to  Muriel  Colwood  the  stock  expla- 
nations she  had  been  accustomed  to  give  herself  of  the 
manner  and  circumstances  of  her  bringing-up.  To-day 
they  seemed  to  her  own  mind,  for  the  first  time,  utterly 
insufficient.  In  a  sudden  crash  and  confusion  of  feeling 
it  was  as  though  she  were  tearing  open  the  heart  of  the 
past,  passionately  probing  and  searching. 

Certain  looks  and  phrases  of  Fanny  Merton  were  really 
working  in  her  memory.  They  were  so  light — yet  so 
ugly.  They  suggested  something,  but  so  vaguely  that 
Diana  could  find  no  words  for  it :  a  note  of  desecration, 

156 


The    Testing    of   Diana   Mallory 

of  cheapening — a  breath  of  dishonor.  It  was  as  though 
a  mourner,  shut  in  for  years  with  sacred  memories,  be- 
came suddenly  aware  that  all  the  time,  in  a  sordid  world 
outside,  these  very  memories  had  been  the  sport  of  an 
unkind  and  insolent  chatter  that  besmirched  them. 

Her  mother! 

In  the  silence  of  the  wood  the  girl's  slender  figure 
stiffened  itself  against  an  attacking  thought.  In  her 
inmost  mind  she  knew  well  that  it  was  from  her  mother 
— and  her  mother's  death — that  all  the  strangeness  of 
the  past  descended.  But  yet  the  death  and  grief  she 
remembered  had  never  presented  themselves  to  her  as 
they  appear  to  other  bereaved  ones.  Why  had  nobody 
ever  spoken  to  her  of  her  mother  in  her  childhood  and 
youth? — neither  father,  nor  nurses,  nor  her  old  French 
governess  ?  Why  had  she  no  picture — no  relics — no  let- 
ters? In  the  box  of  "  Sparling  Papers"  there  was  noth- 
ing that  related  to  Mrs.  Sparling;  that  she  knew,  for  her 
father  had  abruptly  told  her  so  not  long  before  his  death. 
They  were  old  family  records  which  he  could  not  bear 
to  destroy — the  honorable  records  of  an  upright  race, 
which  some  day,  he  thought,  "might  be  a  pleasure  to 
her." 

Often  during  the  last  six  months  of  his  life,  it  seemed 
to  her  now,  in  this  intensity  of  memory,  that  he  had  been 
on  the  point  of  breaking  the  silence  of  a  lifetime.  She 
recalled  moments  and  looks  of  agonized  effort  and  yearn- 
ing. But  he  died  of  a  growth  in  the  throat ;  and  for  weeks 
before  the  end  speech  was  forbidden  them,  on  account  of 
the  constant  danger  of  hemorrhage.  So  that  Diana  had 
always  felt  herself  starved  of  those  last  words  and  mes- 
sages which  make  the  treasure  of  bereaved  love.  Often 
and  often  the  cry  of  her  loneliness  to  her  dead  father  had 


The  Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

been  the  bitter  cry  of  Andromache  to  Hector :  "I  had 
from  thee,  in  dying,  no  memorable  word  on  which  I 
might  ever  think  in  the  year  of  mourning  while  I  wept 
for  thee." 

Had  there  been  a  quarrel  between  her  father  and 
mother  ? — or  something  worse  ? — at  which  Diana's  igno- 
rance of  life,  imposed  upon  her  by  her  upbringing,  could 
only  glance  in  shuddering?  She  knew  her  mother  had 
died  at  twenty-six;  and  that  in  the  two  years  before  her 
death  Mr.  Mallory  had  been  much  away,  travelling  and 
exploring  in  Asia  Minor.  The  young  wife  must  have 
been  often  alone.  Diana,  with  a  sudden  catching  of  the 
breath,  envisaged  possibilities  of  which  no  rational  being 
of  full  age  who  reads  a  newspaper  can  be  unaware. 

Then,  with  an  inward  passion  of  denial,  she  shook 
the  whole  nightmare  from  her.  Outrage! — treason! — to 
those  helpless  memories  of  which  she  was  now  the  only 
guardian.  In  these  easy,  forgetting  days,  when  the  old 
passions  and  endurances  look  to  us  either  affected  or 
eccentric,  such  a  life,  such  an  exile  as  her  father's,  may 
seem  strange  even  —  so  she  accused  herself  —  to  that 
father's  child.  But  that  is  because  we  are  mean  souls 
beside  those  who  begot  us.  We  cannot  feel  as  they;  and 
our  constancy,  compared  to  theirs,  ie  fickleness. 

So,  in  spirit,  she  knelt  again  beside  her  dead,  em- 
bracing their  cold  feet  and  asking  pardon. 

The  tears  clouded  her  eyes;  she  wandered  blindly  on 
through  the  wood  till  she  was  conscious  of  sudden  light 
and  space.  She  had  come  to  a  clearing,  where  several 
huge  beeches  had  been  torn  up  by  a  storm  some  years 
before.  Their  place  had  been  filled  by  a  tangle  of  many 
saplings,  and  in  their  midst  rose  an  elder-bush,  already 
showing  leaf,  amid  the  bare  winterly  wood.  The  last 

158 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

western  light  caught  the  twinkling  leaf  buds,  and  made 
of  the  tree  a  Burning  Bush,  first  herald  of  the  spring. 

The  sight  of  it  unloosed  some  swell  of  passion  in  Diana; 
she  found  herself  smiling  amid  her  tears,  and  saying 
incoherent  things  that  only  the  wood  caught. 

To-day  was  the  meeting  of  Parliament.  She  pictured 
the  scene.  Marsham  was  there,  full  of  projects  and 
ambitions.  Innocently,  exultantly,  she  reminded  her- 
self how  much  she  knew  of  them.  If  he  could  not  have 
her  sympathy,  he  must  have  her  antagonism.  But  no 
chilling  exclusions  and  reserves!  Rather,  a  generous 
confidence  on  his  side;  and  a  gradual,  a  child-like  melting 
and  kindling  on  hers.  In  politics  she  would  never  agree 
with  him — never! — she  would  fight  him  with  all  her 
breath  and  strength.  But  not  with  the  methods  of  Mrs. 
Fotheringham.  No! — what  have  politics  to  do  with — 
with — 

She  dropped  her  face  in  her  hands,  laughing  to  herself, 
the  delicious  tremors  of  first  love  running  through  her. 
Would  she  hear  from  him  ?  She  understood  she  was  to 
be  written  to,  though  she  had  never  asked  it.  But  ought 
she  to  allow  it?  Was  it  convenable?  She  knew  that 
girls  now  did  what  they  liked — threw  all  the  old  rules 
overboard.  But — proudly — she  stood  by  the  old  rules; 
she  would  do  nothing  "fast"  or  forward.  Yet  she  was 
an  orphan — standing  alone;  surely  for  her  there  might 
be  more  freedom  than  for  others? 

She  hurried  home.  With  the  rush  of  new  happiness 
had  come  back  the  old  pity,  the  old  yearning.  It  wasn't, 
wasn't  Fanny's  fault!  She— Diana— had  always  under- 
stood that  Mr.  Merton  was  a  vulgar,  grasping  man  of 
no  breeding  who  had  somehow  entrapped  "  your  aunt 
Bertha — who  was  very  foolish  and  very  young" — into  a 

159 


\ 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallorg 

most  undesirable  marriage.  As  for  Mrs.  Merton — Aunt 
Bertha — Fanny  had  with  her  many  photographs,  among 
them  several  of  her  mother.  A  weak,  heavy  face,  rather 
pretty  still.  Diana  had  sought  her  own  mother  in  it, 
with  a  passionate  yet  shrinking  curiosity,  only  to  pro- 
voke a  rather  curt  reply  from  Fanny,  in  answer  to  a 
question  she  had,  with  difficulty,  brought  herself  to 
put: 

"  Not  a  bit !  There  wasn't  a  scrap  of  likeness  between 
mother  and  Aunt  Sparling." 

The  evening  passed  off  better  than  the  morning  had 
done.  Eyes  more  acute  in  her  own  interests  than  Diana's 
might  have  perceived  a  change  in  Fanny  Merton,  after 
her  long  conversation  with  Mrs.  Colwood.  A  certain 
excitement,  a  certain  triumph,  perhaps  an  occasional 
relenting  and  compunction:  all  these  might  have  been 
observed  or  guessed.  She  made  herself  quite  amiable: 
showed  more  photographs,  talked  still  more  frankly  of 
her  card-winnings  on  the  steamer,  and  of  the  flirtation 
which  had  beguiled  the  voyage;  bespoke  the  immediate 
services  of  Diana's  maid  for  a  dress  that  must  be  done 
up;  and  expressed  a  desire  for  another  and  a  bigger 
wardrobe  in  her  room.  Gradually  a  tone  of  possession, 
almost  of  command,  crept  in.  Diana,  astonished  and 
amused,  made  no  resistance.  These,  she  supposed,  were 
West -Indian  manners.  The  Colonies  are  like  healthy 
children  that  submit  in  their  youth,  and  then  grow  up 
and  order  the  household  about.  What  matter! 

Meanwhile  Mrs.  Colwood  looked  a  little  pale,  and  con- 
fessed to  a  headache.  Diana  was  pleased,  however,  to 
see  that  she  and  Fanny  were  getting  on  better  than  had 
seemed  to  be  probable  in  the  morning.  Fanny  wished— 

1 60 


The    Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

nay,  was  resolved — to  be  entertained  and  amused.  Mrs. 
Colwood  threw  herself  with  new  zest  into  the  various 
plans  Diana  had  made  for  her  cousin.  There  was  to 
be  a  luncheon-party,  an  afternoon  tea,  and  so  forth. 
Only  Diana,  pricked  by  a  new  mistrust,  said  nothing  in 
public  about  an  engagement  she  had  (to  spend  a  Saturday- 
to-Monday  with  Lady  Lucy  at  Tallyn  three  weeks  later) , 
though  she  and  Muriel  made  anxious  plans  as  to  what 
could  be  done  to  amuse  Fanny  during  the  two  days. 

Diana  was  alone  in  her  room  at  night  when  Mrs. 
Colwood  knocked.  Would  Diana  give  her  some  laven- 
der-water ? — her  headache  was  still  severe.  Diana  flew 
to  minister  to  her;  but,  once  admitted,  Muriel  said  no 
more  of  her  headache.  Rather  she  began  to  soothe  and 
caress  Diana.  Was  she  in  better  spirits  ?  Let  her  only 
intrust  the  entertaining  of  Fanny  Merton  to  her  friend 
and  companion — Mrs.  Colwood  would  see  to  it.  Diana 
laughed,  and  silenced  her  with  a  kiss. 

Presently  they  were  sitting  by  the  fire,  Muriel  Colwood 
in  a  large  arm-chair,  a  frail,  fair  creature,  with  her  large 
dark-circled  eyes,  and  her  thin  hands  and  arms;  Diana 
kneeling  beside  her. 

"  I  had  no  idea  what  a  poison  poverty  could  be!"  said 
Muriel,  abruptly,  with  her  gaze  on  the  fire. 

"  My  cousin  ?"  Diana  looked  up  startled.  "  Was  that 
what  she  was  saying  to  you?" 

Muriel  nodded  assent.  Her  look  —  so  anxious  and 
tender — held,  enveloped  her  companion. 

"Are  they  in  debt?"  said  Diana,  slowly. 

"Terribly.  They  seem  to  be  going  to  break  up  their 
home." 

"Did  she  tell  you  all  about  it?" 

Mrs.  Colwood  hesitated. 

161 


The    Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

"A  great  deal  more  than  I  wanted  to  know!"  she  said, 
at  last,  as  though  the  words  broke  from  her. 

Diana  thought  a  little. 

"  I  wonder — whether  that  was — what  she  came  home 
for?" 

Mrs.  Colwood  moved  uneasily. 

"  I  suppose  if  you  are  in  those  straits  you  don't  really 
think  of  anything  else — though  you  may  wish  to." 

" Did  she  tell  you  how  much  they  want?"  said  Diana, 
quickly. 

"  She  named  a  thousand  pounds!" 

Muriel  might  have  been  describing  her  own  embarrass- 
ments, so  scarlet  had  she  become. 

"A  thousand  pounds!"  cried  Diana,  in  amazement. 
"  But  then  why — why — does  she  have  so  many  frocks — 
and  play  cards  for  money — and  bet  on  races?" 

She  threw  her  arms  round  Mrs.  Colwood's  knees  im- 
petuously. 

Muriel's  small  hand  smoothed  back  the  girl's  hair, 
timidly  yet  eagerly. 

"  I  suppose  that's  the  way  they've  been  brought  up." 

"A  thousand  pounds!  And  does  she  expect  me  to 
provide  it?" 

"I  am  afraid — she  hopes  it." 

"But  I  haven't  got  it!"  cried  Diana,  sitting  down  on 
the  floor.  "  I've  spent  more  than  I  ought  on  this  place; 
I'm  overdrawn;  I  ought  to  be  economical  for  a  long 
time.  You  know,  Muriel,  I'm  not  really  rich." 

Mrs.  Colwood  colored  deeper  than  ever.  But  ap- 
parently she  could  think  of  nothing  to  say.  Her  eyes 
were  riveted  on  her  companion. 

"No,  I'm  not  rich,"  resumed  Diana,  with  a  frown, 
drawing  circles  on  the  ground  with  her  finger.  "  Perhaps 

162 


The   Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

I  oughtn't  to  have  taken  this  house.  I  dare  say  it  was 
horrid  of  me.  But  I  couldn't  have  known — could  I? — 
that  Fanny  would  be  coming  and  want  a  thousand 
pounds?" 

She  looked  up  expecting  sympathy — perhaps  a  little 
indignation.  Mrs.  Colwood  only  said: 

"  I  suppose  she  would  not  have  come  over — if  things 
had  not  been  very  bad." 

"  Why  didn't  she  give  me  some  warning  ?"  cried  Diana 
— "instead  of  talking  about  French  lessons!  But  am  I 
bound — do  you  think  I  am  bound  ? — to  give  the  MertOns 
a  thousand  pounds?  I  know  papa  got  tired  of  giving 
them  money.  I  wonder  if  it's  right!" 

She  frowned.  Her  voice  was  a  little  stern.  Her  eyes 
flashed. 

Mrs.  Colwood  again  touched  her  hair  with  a  hand  that 
trembled. 

"They  are  your  only  relations,  aren't  they?"  she  said, 
pleadingly. 

"  Yes,"  said  Diana,  still  with  the  same  roused  look. 

"Perhaps  it  would  set  them  on  their  feet  altogether." 

The  girl  gave  a  puzzled  laugh. 

"Did  she — Muriel,  did  she  ask  you  to  tell  me?" 

"  I  think  she  wanted  me  to  break  it  to  you,"  said  Mrs. 
Colwood,  after  a  moment.  "  And  I  thought  it — it  might 
save  you  pain." 

"Just  like  you!"  Diana  stooped  to  kiss  her  hand. 
"That's  what  your  headache  meant!  Well,  but  now — 
ought  I — ought  I — to  do  it?" 

She  clasped  her  hands  round  her  knees  and  swayed 
backward  and  forward — pondering — with  a  rather  som- 
bre brow.  Mrs.  Colwood' s  expression  was  hidden  in 
the  darkness  of  the  big  chair. 


The   Testing   of    Diana    Mallory 

" — Always  supposing  I  can  do  it,"  resumed  Diana. 
"  And  I  certainly  couldn't  do  it  at  once ;  I  haven't  got  it. 
I  should  have  to  sell  something,  or  borrow  from  the  bank. 
No,  I  must  think — I  must  think  over  it,"  she  added 
more  resolutely,  as  though  her  way  cleared. 

"Of  course,"  said  Mrs.  Colwood,  faintly.  Then  she 
raised  herself.  "  Let  me  tell  her  so — let  me  save  you  the 
conversation." 

"You  dear! — but  why  should  you!"  said  Diana,  in 
amazement. 

"  Let  me." 

"If  you  like!  But  I  can't  have  Fanny  making  you 
look  like  this.  Please,  please  go  to  bed." 

An  hour  later  Mrs.  Colwood,  in  her  room,  was  still 
up  and  dressed,  hanging  motionless,  and  deep  in  thought, 
over  the  dying  fire.  And  before  she  went  to  sleep — fat 
in  the  small  hours — her  pillow  was  wet  with  crying. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

I  THOUGHT  I'd  perhaps  better  let  you  know— I'm 
—well,  I'm  going  to  have  a  talk  with  Diana  this 
morning!" 

The  voice  was  determined.  Muriel  Colwood — startled 
and  dismayed — surveyed  the  speaker.  She  had  been 
waylaid  on  the  threshold  of  her  room.  The  morning  was 
half-way  through.  Visitors,  including  Mr.  Fred  Birch, 
were  expected  to  lunch,  and  Miss  Merton,  who  had  been 
lately  invisible,  had  already,  she  saw,  changed  her  dress. 
At  breakfast,  it  seemed  to  Mrs.  Colwood,  she  had  been 
barely  presentable :  untidy  hair,  a  dress  with  various 
hooks  missing,  and  ruffles  much  in  need  of  washing. 
Muriel  could  only  suppose  that  the  carelessness  of  her 
attire  was  meant  to  mark  the  completeness  of  her  con- 
quest of  Beechcote.  But  now  her  gown  of  scarlet 
velveteen,  her  arms  bare  to  the  elbow,  her  frizzled  and 
curled  hair,  the  powder  which  gave  a  bluish  white  to  her 
complexion,  the  bangles  and  beads  which  adorned  her, 
showed  her  armed  to  the  last  pin  for  the  encounters  of 
the  luncheon-table. 

Mrs.  Colwood,  however,  after  a  first  dazzled  look  at 
what  she  wore,  thought  only  of  what  she  said.  She 
hurriedly  drew  the  girl  into  her  own  room,  and  shut  the 
door.  When,  after  some  conversation,  Fanny  emerged, 
Mrs.  Colwood  was  left  in  a  state  of  agitation  that  was 
partly  fear,  partly  helpless  indignation.  During  the 

165 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorij 

fortnight  since  Miss  Merton's  arrival  all  the  energies  of 
the  house  had  been  devoted  to  her  amusement.  A  little 
whirlwind  of  dissipation  had  blown  through  the  days. 
Two  meets,  a  hockey-match,  a  concert  at  the  neighbor- 
ing town,  a  dinner-party  and  various  "drums,"  besides 
a  luncheon-party  and  afternoon  tea  at  Beechcote  itself 
in  honor  of  the  guest  —  Mrs.  Colwood  thought  the  girl 
might  have  been  content !  But  she  had  examined  every- 
thing presented  to  her  with  a  very  critical  eye,  and  all 
through  it  had  been  plain  that  she  was  impatient  and 
dissatisfied;  for,  inevitably,  her  social  success  was  not 
great.  Diana,  on  the  other  hand,  was  still  a  new  sen- 
sation, and  something  of  a  queen  wherever  she  went. 
Her  welcoming  eyes,  her  impetuous  smile  drew  a  natural 
homage;  and  Fanny  followed  sulkily  in  her  wake,  ac- 
cepted— not  without  surprise — as  Miss  Mallory's  kins- 
woman, but  distinguished  by  no  special  attentions. 

In  any  case,  she  would  have  rebelled  against  the  situ- 
ation. Her  vanity  was  amazing,  her  temper  violent. 
At  home  she  had  been  treated  as  a  beauty,  and  had  ruled 
the  family  with  a  firm  view  to  her  own  interests.  What 
in  Alicia  Drake  was  disguised  by  a  thousand  subleties  of 
class  and  training  was  here  seen  in  its  crudest  form.  But 
there  was  more  besides — miserably  plain  now  to  this 
trembling  spectator.  The  resentment  of  Diana's  place  in 
life,  as  of  something  robbed,  not  earned — the  scarcely 
concealed  claim  either  to  share  it  or  attack  it — these 
things  were  no  longer  riddles  to  Muriel  Colwood.  Rather 
they  were  the  storm-signs  of  a  coming  tempest,  already 
darkening  above  an  innocent  head. 

What  could  she  do?  The  little  lady  gave  her  days 
and  nights  to  the  question,  and  saw  no  way  out.  Some- 
times she  hoped  that  Diana's  personality  had  made  an 

166 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

impression  on  this  sinister  guest;  she  traced  a  grudging 
consciousness  in  Fanny  of  her  cousin's  generosity  and 
charm.  But  this  perception  only  led  to  fresh  despond- 
ency. Whenever  Fanny  softened,  it  showed  itself  in  a 
claim  to  intimacy,  as  sudden  and  as  violent  as  her  ill- 
temper.  She  must  be  Diana's  first  and  dearest  —  be 
admitted  to  all  Diana's  secrets  and  friendships.  Then 
on  Diana's  side,  inevitable  withdrawal,  shrinking,  self- 
defence  —  and  on  Fanny's  a  hotter  and  more  acrid 
jealousy. 

Meanwhile,  as  Mrs.  Colwood  knew,  Diana  had  been 
engaged  in  correspondence  with  her  solicitors,  who  had 
been  giving  her  some  prudent  and  rather  stringent  advice 
on  the  subject  of  income  and  expenditure.  This  morning, 
so  Mrs.  Colwood  believed,  a  letter  had  arrived. 

Presently  she  stole  out  of  her  room  to  the  head  of  the 
stairs.  There  she  remained,  pale  and  irresolute,  for  a 
little  while,  listening  to  the  sounds  in  the  house.  But 
the  striking  of  the  hall  clock,  the  sighing  of  a  stormy  wind 
round  the  house,  and,  occasionally,  a  sound  of  talking 
in  the  drawing-room,  was  all  she  heard. 

Diana  had  been  busy  in  the  hanging  of  some  last 
pictures  in  the  drawing-room — photographs  from  Italian 
pictures  and  monuments.  They  had  belonged  to  her 
father,  and  had  been  the  dear  companions  of  her  child- 
hood. Each,  as  she  handled  it,  breathed  its  own  mem- 
ory; of  the  little  villa  on  the  Portofino  road,  with  its  green 
shutters,  and  rooms  closed  against  the  sun;  or  of  the 
two  short  visits  to  Lucca  and  Florence  she  had  made 
with  her  father. 

Among  the  photographs  was  one  of  the  "Annuncia- 
tion" by  Donatello,  which  glorifies  the  southern  wall  of 

167 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallorg 

Santa  Croce.  Diana  had  just  hung  it  in  a  panelled  cor- 
ner, where  its  silvery  brilliance  on  dark  wood  made  a 
point  of  pleasure  for  the  eye.  She  lingered  before  it, 
wondering  whether  it  would  please  him  when  he  came. 
Unconsciously  her  life  had  slipped  into  this  habit  of  re- 
ferring all  its  pains  and  pleasures  to  the  unseen  friend 
— holding  with  him  that  constant  dialogue  of  the  heart 
without  which  love  neither  begins  nor  grows. 

Yet  she  no  longer  dreamed  of  discussing  Fanny,  and 
the  perplexities  Fanny  had  let  loose  on  Beechcote,  with 
the  living  Marsham.  Money  affairs  must  be  kept  to 
one's  self;  and  somehow  Fanny's  visit  had  become  neither 
more  nor  less  than  a  money  affair. 

That  morning  Diana  had  received  a  letter  from  old 
Mr.  Riley,  the  head  of  the  firm  of  Riley  &  Bonner — 
a  letter  which  was  almost  a  lecture.  If  the  case  were 
indeed  urgent,  said  Mr.  Riley,  if  the  money  must  be 
found,  she  could,  of  course,  borrow  on  her  securities,  and 
the  firm  would  arrange  it  for  her.  But  Mr.  Riley, 
excusing  himself  as  her  father's  old  friend,  wrote  with 
his  own  hand  to  beg  her  to  consider  the  matter  further. 
Her  expenses  had  lately  been  many,  and  some  of  her 
property  might  possibly  decline  in  value  during  the  next 
few  years.  A  prudent  management  of  her  affairs  was 
really  essential.  Could  not  the  money  be  gradually 
saved  out  of  income  ? 

Diana  colored  uncomfortably  as  she  thought  of  the 
letter.  What  did  the  dear  old  man  suppose  she  wanted 
the  money  for  ?  It  hurt  her  pride  that  she  must  appear 
in  this  spendthrift  light  to  eyes  so  honest  and  scru- 
pulous. 

But  what  could  she  do?  Fanny  poured  out  ugly 
reports  of  her  mother's  financial  necessities  to  Muriel 

168 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallorg 

Colwood;  Mrs.  Colwood  repeated  them  to  Diana.  And 
the  Mertons  were  Diana's  only  kinsfolk.  The  claim  of 
blood  pressed  her  hard. 

Meanwhile,  with  a  shrinking  distaste,  she  had  tried  to 
avoid  the  personal  discussion  of  the  matter  with  Fanny. 
The  task  of  curbing  the  girl's  impatience,  day  after  day, 
had  fallen  to  Mrs.  Colwood. 

Diana  was  still  standing  in  a  reverie  before  the  "  An- 
nunciation" when  the  drawing-room  door  opened.  As 
she  looked  round  her,  she  drew  herself  sharply  together 
with  the  movement  of  a  sudden  and  instinctive  an- 
tipathy. 

"That's  all  right,"  said  Fanny  Merton,  surveying  the 
room  with  satisfaction,  and  closing  the  door  behind  her. 
"  I  thought  I'd  find  you  alone." 

Diana  remained  nervously  standing  before  the  picture, 
awaiting  her  cousin,  her  eyes  wider  than  usual,  one  hand 
at  her  throat. 

"Look  here,"  said  Fanny,  approaching  her,  "I  want 
to  talk  to  you." 

Diana  braced  herself.  "  All  right."  She  threw  a  look 
at  the  clock.  "  Just  give  me  time  to  get  tidy  before 
lunch." 

"Oh,  there's  an  hour — time  enough!" 

Diana  drew  forward  an  arm-chair  for  Fanny,  and 
settled  herself  into  the  corner  of  a  sofa.  Her  dog  jumped 
up  beside  her,  and  laid  his  nose  on  her  lap. 

Fanny  held  herself  straight.  Her  color  under  the  pow- 
der had  heightened  a  little.  The  two  girls  confronted 
each  other,  and,  vaguely,  perhaps,  each  felt  the  strange- 
ness of  the  situation.  Fanny  was  twenty,  Diana  twenty- 
three.  They  were  of  an  age  when  girls  are  generally 
under  the  guidance  or  authority  of  their  elders;  com- 

ia  169 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

paratively  little  accustomed,  in  the  normal  family,  to 
discuss  affairs  or  take  independent  decisions.  Yet  here 
they  met,  alone  and  untrammelled;  as  hostess  and  guest 
in  the  first  place;  as  kinswomen,  yet  comparative  stran- 
gers to  each  other,  and  conscious  of  a  secret  dislike,  each 
for  the  other.  On  the  one  side,  an  exultant  and  partly 
cruel  consciousness  of  power;  on  the  other,  feelings  of 
repugnance  and  revolt,  only  held  in  check  by  the  forces 
of  a  tender  and  scrupulous  nature. 

Fanny  cleared  her  throat. 

"Well,  of  course,  Mrs.  Colwood's  told  me  all  you've 
been  saying  to  her.  And  I  don't  say  I'm  surprised." 

Diana  opened  her  large  eyes. 

"Surprised  at  what?" 

'  "Surprised — well! — surprised  you  didn't  see  your  way 
all  at  once,  and  that  kind  of  thing.  I  know  I'd  want  to 
ask*a  lot  of  questions — shouldn't  I,  just!  Why,  that's 
what  I  expected.  But,  you  see,  my  time  in  England's 
getting  on.  I've  nothing  to  say  to  my  people,  and  they 
bother  my  life  out  every  mail." 

"What  did  you  really  come  to  England  for?"  said 
Diana,  in  a  low  voice.  Her  attitude,  curled  up  among  the 
cushions  of  the  sofa,  gave  her  an  almost  childish  air. 
Fanny,  on  the  other  hand,  resplendent  in  her  scarlet  dress 
and  high  coiffure,  might  have  been  years  older  than  her 
cousin.  And  any  stranger  watching  the  face  in  which 
the  hardness  of  an  "  old  campaigner"  already  strove  with 
youth,  would  have  thought  her,  and  not  Diana,  the 
mistress  of  the  house. 

At  Diana's  question,  Fanny's  eyes  flickered  a  moment. 

"  Oh,  well,  I  had  lots  of  things  in  my  mind.  But  it 
was  the  money  that  mattered  most." 

"I  see,"  murmured  Diana. 
170 


The  Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

Fanny  fidgeted  a  little  with  one  of  the  three  bead  neck- 
laces which  adorned  her.  Then  she  broke  out: 

"Look  here,  Diana,  you've  never  been  poor  in  your 
life,  so  you  don't  know  what  it's  like  being  awfully  hard 
up.  But  ever  since  father  died,  mother's  had  a  frightful 
lot  of  trouble — all  of  us  to  keep,  and  the  boys'  schooling 
to  pay,  and  next  to  nothing  to  do  it  on.  Father  left 
everything  in  a  dreadful  muddle.  He  never  had  a  bit  of 
sense — " 

Diana  made  a  sudden  movement.  Fanny  looked  at 
her  astonished,  expecting  her  to  speak.  Diana,  however, 
said  nothing,  and  the  girl  resumed: 

/'I  mean,  in  business.  He'd  got  everything  into  a 
shocking  state,  and  instead  of  six  hundred  a  year  for 
us — as  we'd  always  been  led  on  to  expect — well,  there 
wasn't  three!  Then,  you  know,  Uncle  Mallory  used  to 
send  us  money.  Well"  (she  cleared  her  throat  again 
and  looked  away  from  Diana) ,  "  about  a  year  before  he 
died  he  and  father  fell  out  about  something — so  that 
didn't  come  in  any  more.  Then  we  thought  perhaps  he'd 
remember  us  in  his  will.  And  that  was  another  disap- 
pointment. So,  you  see,  really  mother  didn't  know 
where  to  turn." 

"  I  suppose  papa  thought  he  had  done  all  he  could," 
said  Diana,  in  a  voice  which  tried  to  keep  quite  steady. 
"  He  never  denied  any  claim  he  felt  just.  I  feel  I  must 
say  that,  because  you  seem  to  blame  papa.  But,  of 
course,  I  am  very  sorry  for  Aunt  Bertha." 

At  the  words  "claim"  and  "just"  there  was  a  quick 
change  of  expression  in  Fanny's  eyes.  She  broke  out 
angrily:  "Well,  you  really  don't  know  about  it,  Diana, 
so  it's  no  good  talking.  And  I'm  not  going  to  rake  up 
old  things — " 

171 


The    Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

"But  if  I  don't  know,"  said  Diana,  interrupting, 
"  hadn't  you  better  tell  me  ?  Why  did  papa  and  Uncle 
Merton  disagree?  And  why  did  you  think  papa  ought 
to  have  left  you  money  ?"  She  bent  forward  insistently. 
There  was  a  dignity — perhaps  also  a  touch  of  haughti- 
ness— in  her  bearing  which  exasperated  the  girl  beside 
her.  The  haughtiness  was  that  of  one  who  protects  the 
dead.  But  Fanny's  mind  was  not  one  that  perceived 
the  finer  shades. 

"Well,  I'm  not  going  to  say!"  said  Fanny,  with  vehe- 
mence. "But  I  can  tell  you,  mother  has  a  claim! — and 
Uncle  Mallory  ought  to  have  left  us  something!" 

The  instant  the  words  were  out  she  regretted  them. 
Diana  abandoned  her  childish  attitude.  She  drew  herself 
together,  and  sat  upright  on  the  edge  of  the  sofa.  The 
color  had  come  flooding  back  hotly  into  her  cheeks,  and 
the  slightly  frowning  look  produced  by  the  effort  to  see 
the  face  before  her  distinctly  gave  a  peculiar  intensity 
to  the  eyes. 

"Fanny,  please! — you  must  tell  me  why!" 

The  tone,  resolute,  yet  appealing,  put  Fanny  in  an 
evident  embarrassment. 

"  Well,  I  can't,"  she  said,  after  a  moment — "  so  it's  no 
good  asking  me."  Then  suddenly,  she  hesitated — "  or — 
at  least — " 

"At  least  what?     Please  go  on." 

Fanny  wriggled  again,  then  said,  with  a  burst: 

"  Well,  my  mother  was  Aunt  Sparling's  younger  sister 
— you  know  that—don't  you? — " 

"Of  course." 

"  And  our  grandfather  died  a  year  before  Aunt  Spar- 
ling. She  was  mother's  trustee.  Oh,  the  money's  all 
right — the  trust  money,  I  mean,"  said  the  girl,  hastily. 

172 


The  Testing    of   Diana    Mallorg 

"But  it  was  a  lot  of  other  things — that  mother  says 
grandpapa  always  meant  to  divide  between  her  and  Aunt 
Sparling — and  she  never  had  them — nor  a  farthing  out 
of  them!" 

"What  other  things?     I  don't  understand." 

"Jewels! — there! — jewels — and  a  lot  of  plate.  Mother 
says  she  had  a  right  to  half  the  things  that  belonged  to 
her  mother.  Grandpapa  always  told  her  she  should  have 
them.  And  there  wasn't  a  word  about  them  in  the 
will." 

"7  haven't  any  diamonds,"  said  Diana,  quietly,  "or 
any  jewels  at  all,  except  a  string  of  pearls  papa  gave 
me  when  I  was  nineteen,  and  two  or  three  little  things 
we  bought  in  Florence." 

Fanny  Merton  grew  still  redder;  she  stared  aggres- 
sively at  her  cousin : 

"  Well — that  was  because — Aunt  Sparling  sold  all  the 
things!" 

Diana  started  and  recoiled. 

"  You  mean,"  she  said — her  breath  fluttering — "  that — 
mamma  sold  things  she  had  no  right  to — and  never  gave 
Aunt  Bertha  the  money!" 

The  restrained  passion  of  her  look  had  an  odd  effect 
upon  her  companion.  Fanny  first  wavered  under  it, 
then  laughed — a  laugh  that  was  partly  perplexity,  partly 
something  else,  indecipherable. 

"Well,  as  I  wasn't  born  then,  I  don't  know.  You 
needn't  be  cross  with  me,  Diana;  I  didn't  mean  to  say 
any  harm  of  anybody.  But — mother  says" — she  laid 
an  obstinate  stress  on  each  word — "  that  she  remembers 
quite  well — grandpapa  meant  her  to  have :  a  diamond 
necklace;  a  riviere"  (she  began  to  check  the  items  off 
on  her  fingers) — "  there  were  two,  and  of  course  Aunt 

173 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

Sparling  had  the  best;  two  bracelets,  one  with  tur- 
quoises and  one  with  pearls;  a  diamond  brooch;  an 
opal  pendant;  a  little  watch  set  with  diamonds,  grand- 
ma used  to  wear ;  and  then  a  lot  of  plate !  Mother  wrote 
me  out  a  list — I've  got  it  here." 

She  opened  a  beaded  bag  on  her  wrist,  took  out  half 
a  sheet  of  paper,  and  handed  it  to  Diana. 

Diana  looked  at  it  in  silence.  Even  her  lips  were 
white,  and  her  fingers  shook. 

"Did  you  ever  send  this  to  papa?"  she  asked,  after  a 
minute. 

Fanny  fidgeted  again. 

"Yes." 

"And  what  did  he  say?     Have  you  got  his  letter?" 

"No;  I  haven't  got  his  letter." 

"Did  he  admit  that — that  mamma  had  done  this?" 

Fanny  hesitated;  but  her  intelligence,  which  was  of 
a  simple  kind,  did  not  suggest  to  her  an  ingenious  line  of 
reply. 

"  Well,  I  dare  say  he  didn't.  But  that  doesn't  make 
any  difference." 

"Was  that  what  he  and  Uncle  Merton  quarrelled 
about?" 

Fanny  hesitated  again:  then  broke  out :  "  Father  only 
did  what  he  ought  —  he  asked  for  what  was  owed 
mother!" 

"  And  papa  wouldn't  give  it!"  cried  Diana,  in  a  strange 
note  of  scorn ;  "  papa,  who  never  could  rest  if  he  owed 
a  farthing  to  anybody — who  always  overpaid  everybody 
— whom  everybody — " 

She  rose  suddenly  with  a  bitten  lip.  Her  eyes  blazed 
— and  her  cheeks.  She  walked  to  the  window  and  stood 
looking  out,  in  a  whirlwind  of  feeling  and  memory,  hiding 

'74 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

her  face  as  best  she  could  from  the  girl  who  sat  watching 
her  with  an  expression  half  sulky,  half  insolent.  Diana 
was  thinking  of  moments — recalling  forgotten  fragments 
of  dialogue — in  the  past,  which  showed  her  father's  opin- 
ion of  his  Barbadoes  brother-in-law:  "A  grasping,  ill- 
bred  fellow" — " neither  gratitude,  nor  delicacy" — "has 
been  the  evil  genius  of  his  wife,  and  will  be  the  ruin  of 
his  children."  She  did  not  believe  a  word  of  Fanny's 
story — not  a  word  of  it! 

She  turned  impetuously.  Then,  as  her  eyes  met 
Fanny's,  a  shock  ran  through  her — the  same  sudden,  in- 
explicable fear  which  had  seized  on  Mrs.  Colwood,  only 
more  sickening,  more  paralyzing.  And  it  was  a  fear 
which  ran  back  to  and  linked  itself  with  the  hour  of 
heart-searching  in  the  wood.  What  was  Fanny  thinking 
of? — what  was  in  her  mind — on  her  lips?  Impulses  she 
could  not  have  defined,  terrors  to  which  she  could  give  no 
name,  crept  over  Diana's  will  and  disabled  it.  She 
trembled  from  head  to  foot — and  gave  way. 

She  walked  up  to  her  cousin. 

"Fanny,  is  there  any  letter  —  anything  of  grand- 
papa's— or  of  my  mother's — that  you  could  show  me?" 

"No!  It  was  a  promise,  I  tell  you — there  was  no 
writing.  But  my  mother  could  swear  to  it." 

The  girl  faced  her  cousin  without  flinching.  Diana 
sat  down  again,  white  and  tremulous,  the  moment  of 
energy,  of  resistance,  gone.  In  a  wavering  voice  she 
began  to  explain  that  she  had,  in  fact,  been  inquiring  into 
her  affairs,  that  the  money  was  not  actually  at  her  dis- 
posal, that  to  provide  it  would  require  an  arrangement 
with  her  bankers,  and  the  depositing  of  some  securities; 
but  that,  before  long,  it  should  be  available. 

Fanny  drew  a  long  breath.  She  had  not  expected  the 

175 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

surrender.  Her  eyes  sparkled,  and  she  began  to  stammer 
thanks. 

"Don't!"  said  Diana,  putting  out  a  hand.  "If  I  owe 
it  you — and  I  take  it  on  your  word — the  money  shall  be 
paid — that's  all.  Only — only,  I  wish  you  had  not  written 
to  me  like  that;  and  I  ask  that — that — you  will  never, 
please,  speak  to  me  about  it  again!" 

She  had  risen,  and  was  standing,  very  tall  and  rigid, 
her  hands  pressing  against  each  other. 

Fanny's  face  clouded. 

"Very  well,"  she  said,  as  she  rose  from  her  seat, 
"  I'm  sure  I  don't  want  to  talk  about  it.  I  didn't  like  the 
job  a  bit — nor  did  mother.  But  if  you  are  poor — -and 
somebody  owes  you  something — you  can't  help  trying  to 
get  it— that's  all!" 

Diana  said  nothing.  She  went  to  the  writing-table 
and  began  to  arrange  some  letters.  Fanny  looked  at 
her. 

"I  say,  Diana! — perhaps  you  won't  want  me  to  stay 
here  after —  You  seem  to  have  taken  against  me." 

Diana  turned. 

"No,"  she  said,  faintly.  Then,  with  a  little  sob:  "I 
thought  of  nothing  but  your  coming." 

Fanny  flushed. 

"  Well,  of  course  you've  been  very  kind  to  me — and  all 
that  sort  of  thing.  I  wasn't  saying  you  hadn't  been. 
Except —  Well,  no,  there's  one  thing  I  do  think  you've 
been  rather  nasty  about!" 

The  girl  threw  back  her  head  defiantly. 

Diana's  pale  face  questioned  her. 

"  I  was  talking  to  your  maid  yesterday,"  said  Fanny, 
slowly,  "  and  she  says  you're  going  to  stay  at  some  smart 
place  next  week,  and  you've  been  getting  a  new  dress  for 

176 


The   Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

it.     And  you've  never  said  a  word  to  me  about  it — let 
alone  ask  me  to  go  with  you!" 

Diana  looked  at  her  amazed. 

"You  mean — I'm  going  to  Tallyn!" 

"That's  it,"  said  Fanny,  reproachfully.  "And  you 
know  I  don't  get  a  lot  of  fun  at  home — and  I  might  as 
well  be  seeing  people — and  going  about  with  you — 
though  I  do  have  to  play  second  fiddle.  You're  rich,  of 
course — everybody's  nice  to  you — " 

She  paused.  Diana,  struck  dumb,  could  find,  for  the 
moment,  nothing  to  say.  The  red  flamed  in  Fanny's 
cheeks,  and  she  turned  away  with  a  flounce. 

"  Oh,  well,  you'd  better  say  it  at  once — you're  ashamed 
of  me!  I  haven't  had  your  blessed  advantages!  Do 
you  think  I  don't  know  that!" 

In  the  girl's  heightened  voice  and  frowning  brow 
there  was  a  touch  of  fury,  of  goaded  pride,  that  touched 
Diana  with  a  sudden  remorse.  She  ran  toward  her 
cousin — appealing : 

"  I'm  very  sorry,  Fanny.  I — I  don't  like  to  leave  you 
— but  they  are  my  great  friends — and  Lady  Lucy,  though 
she's  very  kind,  is  very  old-fashioned.  One  couldn't 
take  the  smallest  liberty  with  her.  I  don't  think  I  could 
ask  to  take  you — when  they  are  quite  by  themselves — 
and  the  house  is  only  half  mounted.  But  Mrs.  Col  wood 
and  I  had  been  thinking  of  several  things  that  might 
amuse  you — and  I  shall  only  be  two  nights  away." 

"I  don't  want  any  amusing — thanks!"  said  Fanny, 
walking  to  the  door. 

She  closed  it  behind  her.  Diana  clasped  her  hands 
overhead  in  a  gesture  of  amazement. 

"To  quarrel  with  me  about  that — after — the  other 
thing  1" 

177 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

No! — not  Tallyn! — not  Tallyn! — anywhere,  anything, 
but  that! 

Was  she  proud? — snobbish?  Her  eyes  filled  with 
tears,  but  her  will  hardened.  What  was  to  be  gained? 
Fanny  would  not  like  them,  nor  they  her. 

The  luncheon-party  had  been  arranged  for  Mr.  Birch, 
Fanny's  train  acquaintance.  Diana  had  asked  the  Rough- 
sedges,  explaining  the  matter,  with  a  half-deprecating, 
half -humorous  face,  to  the  comfortable  ear  of  Mrs. 
Roughsedge.  Explanation  was  necessary,  for  this  par- 
ticular young  man  was  only  welcome  in  those  houses  of 
the  neighborhood  which  were  not  socially  dainty.  Mrs. 
Roughsedge  understood  at  once — laughed  heartily — ac- 
cepted with  equal  heartiness — and  then,  taking  Diana's 
hand,  she  said,  with  a  shining  of  her  gray  eye: 

"  My  dear,  if  you  want  Henry  and  me  to  stand  on  our 

;»   heads  we  will   attempt  it  with  pleasure.     You  are  an 

angel! — and  angels  are  not  to  be  worried  by  solicitors." 

The  first  part  of  which  remark  referred  to  a  certain 
morning  after  Hugh's  announcement  of  his  appointment 
to  the  Nigerian  expedition,  when  Diana  had  shown  the 
old  people  a  sweet  and  daughter-like  sympathy,  which 
had  entirely  won  whatever  portion  of  their  hearts  re- 
mained still  to  be  captured. 

Hugh,  meanwhile,  was  not  yet  gone,  though  he  was 
within  a  fortnight  of  departure.  He  was  coming  to 
luncheon,  with  his  parents,  in  order  to  support  Diana. 
The  family  had  seen  Miss  Merton  some  two  or  three 
times,  and  were  all  strongly  of  opinion  that  Diana  very 
much  wanted  supporting.  "  Why  should  one  be  civil  to 
one's  cousin?"  Dr.  Roughsedge  inquired  of  his  wife. 
"  If  they  are  nice,  let  them  stand  on  their  own  merits.  If 

178 


The   Testing   of   Diana   Nallory 

not,  they  are  disagreeable  people  who  know  a  deal  too 
much  about  you.  Miss  Diana  should  have  consulted 
me!" 

The  Roughsedges  arrived  early,  and  found  Diana 
alone  in  the  drawing-room.  Again  Captain  Roughsedge 
thought  her  pale,  and  was  even  sure  that  she  had  lost 
flesh.  This  time  it  was  hardly  possible  to  put  these 
symptoms  down  to  Marsham's  account.  He  chafed  un- 
der the  thought  that  he  should  be  no  longer  there  in  case 
a  league,  offensive  and  defensive,  had  in  the  end  to  be 
made  with  Mrs.  Colwood  for  the  handling  of  cousins.  It 
was  quite  clear  that  Miss  Fanny  was  a  vulgar  little  minx, 
and  that  Beechcote  would  have  no  peace  till  it  was  rid  of 
her.  Meanwhile,  the  indefinable  change  which  had  come 
over  his  mother's  face,  during  the  preceding  week,  had 
escaped  even  the  quick  eyes  of  an  affectionate  son.  Alas! 
for  mothers — when  Lalage  appears! 

Mr.  Birch  arrived  to  the  minute,  and  when  he  was 
engaged  in  affable  conversation  with  Diana,  Fanny,  last 
of  the  party — the  door  being  ceremoniously  thrown  open 
by  the  butler — entered,  with  an  air.  Mr.  Birch  sprang 
effusively  to  his  feet,  and  there  was  a  noisy  greeting  be- 
tween him  and  his  travelling  companion.  The  young 
man  was  slim,  and  effeminately  good-looking.  His  frock- 
coat  and  gray  trousers  were  new  and  immaculate;  his 
small  feet  were  encased  in  shining  patent-leather  boots, 
and  his  blue  eyes  gave  the  impression  of  having  been 
carefully  matched  with  his  tie.  He  was  evidently  de- 
lighted to  find  himself  at  Beechcote,  and  it  might  have 
been  divined  that  there  was  a  spice  of  malice  in  his 
pleasure.  The  Vavasours  had  always  snubbed  him;  Miss 
Mallory  herself  had  not  been  over-polite  to  him  on  one 
or  two  occasions;  but  her  cousin  was  a  "stunner,"  and, 

179 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

secure  in  Fanny's  exuberant  favor,  he  made  himself  quite 
at  home.  Placed  on  Diana's  left  at  table,  he  gave  her 
much  voluble  information  about  her  neighbors,  mostly 
ill-natured;  he  spoke  familiarly  of  "that  clever  chap 
Marsham,"  as  of  a  politician  who  owed  his  election  for 
the  division  entirely  to  the  good  offices  of  Mr.  Fred  Birch's 
firm,  and  described  Lady  Lucy  as  "  an  old  dear,"  though 
very  "  frowsty  "  in  her  ideas.  He  was  strongly  of  opinion 
that  Marsham  should  find  an  heiress  as  soon  as  possible, 
for  there  was  no  saying  how  "  long  the  old  lady  would  see 
him  out  of  his  money,"  and  everybody  knew  that  at 
present  "she  kept  him  beastly  short."  "As  for  me," 
the  speaker  wound  up,  with  an  engaging  and  pensive 
naivetf,  "I've  talked  to  him  till  I'm  tired."  -I 

At  last  he  was  headed  away  from  Tallyn  and  its 
owners,  only  to  fall  into  a  rapturous  debate  with  Fanny 
over  a  racing  bet  which  seemed  to  have  been  offered  and 
taken  on  the  journey  which  first  made  them  acquainted. 
Fanny  had  lost,  but  the  young  man  gallantly  excused 
her. 

"No — no,  couldn't  think  of  it!  Not  till  next  time. 
Then — my  word! — I'll  come  down  upon  you — won't  I? 
Teach  you  to  know  your  way  about — eh  ?" 

Loud  laughter  from  Fanny,  who  professed  to  know 
her  way  about  already.  They  exchanged  "  tips  " — until 
at  last  Mr.  Birch,  lost  in  admiration  of  his  companion, 
pronounced  her  a  "ripper"  —  he  had  never  yet  met  a 
lady  so  well  up — "why,  you  know  as  much  as  a  man!" 

Dr.  Roughsedge  meanwhile  observed  the  type.  The 
father,  an  old-fashioned  steady-going  solicitor,  had  sent 
the  son  to  expensive  schools,  and  allowed  him  two  years 
at  Oxford,  until  the  College  had  politely  requested  the 
youth's  withdrawal.  The  business  was  long  established, 

1 80 


The   Testing    of    Diana   Mallorg 

and  had  been  sound.  This  young  man  had  now  been  a 
partner  in  it  for  two  years,  and  the  same  period  had 
seen  the  rise  to  eminence  of  another  and  hitherto  ob- 
scure firm  in  the  county  town.  Mr.  Fred  Birch  spoke 
contemptuously  of  the  rival  firm  as  "smugs";  but  the 
district  was  beginning  to  intrust  its  wills  and  mortgages 
to  the  "smugs"  with  a  sad  and  increasing  alacrity. 

There  were,  indeed,  some  secret  discomforts  in  the 
young  man's  soul;  and  while  he  sported  with  Fanny  he 
did  not  forget  business.  The  tenant  of  Beechcote  was, 
ipso  facto,  of  some  social  importance,  and  Diana  was  re- 
ported to  be  rich;  the  Roughsedges  also,  though  negligible 
financially,  were  not  without  influence  in  high  places; 
and  the  doctor  was  governor  of  an  important  grammar- 
school  recently  revived  and  reorganized,  wherewith  the 
Birches  would  have  been  glad  to  be  officially  connected. 
He  therefore  made  himself  agreeable. 
•  "You  read,  sir,  a  great  deal?"  he  said  to  the  doctor, 
with  a  professional  change  of  voice. 

The  doctor,  who,  like  most  great  men,  was  a  trifle 
greedy,  was  silently  enjoying  a  dish  of  oysters  delicately 
rolled  in  bacon.  He  looked  up  at  his  questioner. 

"A  great  deal,  Mr.  Birch." 

"Everything,  in  fact?" 

"  Everything — except,  of  course,  what  is  indispensable." 

Mr.  Birch  looked  puzzled. 

"  I  heard  of  you  from  the  Duchess,  doctor.  She  says 
you  are  one  of  the  most  learned  men  in  England." 

"The  Duchess?"  The  doctor  screwed  up  his  eyes 
and  looked  round  the  table. 

Mr.  Birch,  with  complacency,  named  the  wife  of  a 
neighboring  potentate  who  owned  half  the  county. 

"Don't  know  her,"  said  the   doctor — "don't  know 

181 


The  Testing    of  Diana   Mallory 

her;  and — excuse  the  barbarity — don't  wish  to  know 
her." 

"Oh,  but  so  charming!"  cried  Mr.  Birch — "and  so 
kind!" 

The  doctor  shook  his  head,  and  declared  that  great 
ladies  were  not  to  his  taste.  "  Poodles,  sir,  poodles! '  fed 
on  cream  and  muffins!' — there  is  no  trusting  them." 

"Poodles!"  said  Fanny,  in  astonishment.  "Why  are 
duchesses  like  poodles?" 

The  doctor  bowed  to  her. 

"I  give  it  up,  Miss  Merton.     Ask  Sydney  Smith." 

Fanny  was  mystified,  and  the  sulky  look  appeared. 

"Well,  I  know  I  should  like  to  be  a  duchess.  Why 
shouldn't  one  want  to  be  a  duchess?" 

"Why  not  indeed?"  said  the  doctor,  helping  himself 
to  another  oyster.  "  That's  why  they  exist." 

"  I  suppose  you're  teasing,"  said  Fanny,  rather  crossly. 

"I  am  quite  incapable  of  it,"  protested  the  doctor. 
"  Shall  we  not  all  agree  that  duchesses  exist  for  the  envy 
and  jealousy  of  mankind  ?" 

"Womankind?"  put  in  Diana.  The  doctor  smiled  at 
her,  and  finished  his  oyster.  Brave  child!  Had  that 
odious  young  woman  been  behaving  in  character  that 
morning?  He  would  like  to  have  the  dealing  with  her! 
As  for  Diana,  her  face  reminded  him  of  Cowper's  rose 
"just  washed  by  a  shower" — delicately  fresh — yet  elo- 
quent of  some  past  storm. — Good  Heavens!  Where  was 
that  fellow  Marsham?  Philandering  with  politics? — 
when  there  was  this  flower  for  the  gathering! 

Luncheon  was  half  -  way  through  when  a  rattling 
sound  of  horses'  hoofs  outside  drew  the  attention  of  the 
table. 

tit 


The   Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

"Somebody  else  coming  to  lunch,"  said  Mr.  Birch. 
"  Sorry  for  'em,  Miss  Mallory.  We  haven't  left  'em  much. 
You've  done  us  so  uncommon  well." 

Diana  herself  looked  in  some  alarm  round  the  table. 

"Plenty,  my  dear  lady,  plenty!"  said  the  doctor,  on 
her  other  hand.  "  Cold  beef,  and  bread  and  cheese — what 
does  any  mortal  want  more?  Don't  disturb  yourself." 

Diana  wondered  who  the  visitors  might  be.  The  butler 
entered. 

"Sir  James  Chide,  ma'am,  and  Miss  Drake.  They 
have  ridden  over  from  Overton  Park,  and  didn't  think  it 
was  so  far.  They  told  me  to  say  they  didn't  wish  to 
disturb  vou  at  luncheon,  and  might  they  have  a  cup  of 
coffee?" 

Diana  excused  herself,  and  hurried  out.  Mr.  Birch 
explained  at  length  to  Mrs.  Colwood  and  Fanny  that 
Overton  Park  belonged  to  the  Judge,  Sir  William  Felton; 
that  Sir  James  Chide  was  often  there;  and  no  doubt 
Miss  Drake  had  been  invited  for  the  ball  of  the  night 
before;  awfully  smart  affair f — the  coming-out  ball  of  the 
youngest  daughter. 

"Who  is  Miss  Drake?"  asked  Fanny,  thinking  en- 
viously of  the  ball,  to  which  she  had  not  been  invited. 
Mr.  Birch  turned  to  her  with  confidential  jocosity. 

"Lady  Lucy  Marsham's  cousin;  and  it  is  generally 
supposed  that  she  might  by  now  have  been  something 
else  but  for — " 

He  nodded  toward  the  chair  at  the  head  of  the  table 
which  Diana  had  left  vacant. 

"  Whatever  do  you  mean  ?"  said  Fanny.  The  Marsh- 
ams  to  her  were,  so  far,  mere  shadows.  They  repre- 
sented rich  people  on  the  horizon  whom  Diana  selfishly 
wished  to  keep  to  herself. 

183 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

"I'm  telling  tales,  I  declare  I  am!"  said  Mr.  Birch. 
"  Haven't  you  seen  Mr.  Oliver  Marsham  yet,  Miss  Mer- 
ton?" 

"No.     I  don't  know  anything  about  him." 

"Ah!"  said  Mr.  Birch,  smiling,  and  peeling  an  apple 
with  deliberation. 

Fanny  flushed. 

"  Is  there  anything  up — between  him  and  Diana?"  she 
said  in  his  ear. 

Mr.  Birch  smiled  again. 

"  I  saw  old  Mr.  Vavasour  the  other  day — clients  of 
ours,  you  understand.  A  close-fisted  old  boy,  Miss  Mer- 
ton.  They  imagined  they'd  get  a  good  deal  out  of  your 
cousin.  But  not  a  bit  of  it.  Oliver  Marsham  does  all 
her  business  for  her.  The  Vavasours  don't  like  it,  I 
can  tell  you." 

"  I  haven't  seen  either  him  or  Lady  Lucy — is  that  her 
name? — since  I  came." 

"  Let  me  see.  You  came  about  a  fortnight  ago — just 
when  Parliament  reassembled.  Mr.  Marsham  is  our  mem- 
ber. He  and  Lady  Lucy  went  up  to  town  the  day  be- 
fore Parliament  met." 

"And  what  about  Miss  Drake?" 

"Ah! — poor  Miss  Drake!"  Mr.  Birch  raised  a  humor- 
ous eyebrow.  "Those  little  things  will  happen,  won't 
they?  It  was  just  at  Christmas,  I  understand,  that 
your  cousin  paid  her  first  visit  to  Tallyn.  A  man  who 
was  shooting  there  told  me  all  about  it." 

"And  Miss  Drake  was  there  too?" 

Mr.  Birch  nodded. 

"  And  Diana  cut  her  out  ?"  said  Fanny,  bending  toward 
him  eagerly. 

Mr.  Birch  smiled  again.  Voices  were  heard  in  the 

184 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

hall,  but  before  the  new  guests  entered,  the  young  man 
put  up  a  finger  to  his  lips : 

"  Don't  you  quote  me,  please,  Miss  Merton.  But,  I  can 
tell  you,  your  cousin's  very  high  up  in  the  running  just 
now.  And  Oliver  Marsham  will  have  twenty  thousand 
a  year  some  day  if  he  has  a  penny.  Miss  Mallory  hasn't 
told  you  anything — hasn't  she?  Ha — ha!  Still  waters, 
you  know — still  waters!" 

A  few  minutes  later  Sir  James  Chide  was  seated  be- 
tween Diana  and  Fanny  Merton,  Mr.  Birch  having 
obligingly  vacated  his  seat  and  passed  to  the  other  side 
of  the  table,  where  his  attempts  at  conversation  were 
coldly  received  by  Miss  Drake.  That  young  lady  dazzled 
the  eyes  of  Fanny,  who  sat  opposite  to  her.  The  closely 
fitting  habit  and  black  riding-hat  gave  to  her  fine  figure 
and  silky  wealth  of  hair  the  maximum  of  effect.  Fanny 
perfectly  understood  that  only  money  and  fashion  could 
attain  to  Miss  Drake's  costly  simplicity.  She  envied  her 
from  the  bottom  of  her  heart;  she  would  have  given 
worlds  to  see  the  dress  in  which  she  had  figured  at  the 
ball.  Miss  Drake,  no  doubt,  went  to  two  or  three  balls 
a  week,  and  could  spend  anything  she  liked  upon  her 
clothes. 

Yet  Diana  had  cut  her  out — Diana  was  to  carry  off 
the  prize!  Twenty  thousand  a  year!  Fanny's  mind 
was  in  a  ferment — the  mind  of  a  raw  and  envious  pro- 
vincial, trained  to  small  ambitions  and  hungry  desires. 
Half  an.  hour  before,  she  had  been  writing  a  letter  home, 
in  a  whirl  of  delight  and  self-glorification.  The  money 
Diana  had  promised  would  set  the  whole  family  on  its 
legs,  and  Fanny  had  stipulated  that  after  the  debts  were 
paid  she  was  to  have  a  clear,  cool  hundred  for  her  own 

13  185 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

pocket,  and  no  nonsense  about  it.  It  was  she  who  had 
done  it  all,  and  if  it  hadn't  been  for  her,  they  might  all 
have  gone  to  the  workhouse.  But  now  her  success  was 
to  her  as  dross.  The  thought  of  Diana's  future  wealth 
and  glory  produced  in  her  a  feeling  which  was  an  acute 
physical  distress.  So  Diana  was  to  be  married ! — and  to 
the  great  parti  of  the  neighborhood!  Fanny  already 
saw  her  in  the  bridal  white,  surrounded  by  glittering 
bridesmaids;  and  a  churchful  of  titled  people,  bowing 
before  her  as  she  passed  in  state,  like  poppies  under  a 
breeze. 

And  Diana  had  never  said  a  word  to  her  about  it — to 
her  own  cousin!  Nasty,  close,  mean  ways!  Fanny  was 
not  good  enough  for  Tallyn — oh  no!  She  was  asked  to 
Beechcote  when  there  was  nothing  going  on — or  next 
to  nothing — and  one  might  yawn  one's  self  to  sleep  with 
dulness  from  morning  till  night.  But  as  soon  as  she  was 
safely  packed  off,  then  there  would  be  fine  times,  no 
doubt ;  the  engagement  would  be  announced ;  the  presents 
would  begin  to  come  in;  the  bridesmaids  would  be  chosen. 
But  she  would  get  nothing  out  of  it — not  she;  she  would 
not  be  asked  to  be  bridesmaid.  She  was  not  genteel 
enough  for  Diana. 

Diana — Diana  ! — the  daughter — 

Fanny's  whole  nature  gathered  itself  as  though  for 
a  spring  upon  some  prey,  at  once  tempting  and  exasper- 
ating. In  one  short  fortnight  the  inbred  and  fated  an- 
tagonism between  the  two  natures  had  developed  it- 
self— on  Fanny's  side — to  the  point  of  hatred.  In  the 
depths  of  her  being  she  knew  that  Diana  had  yearned  to 
love  her,  and  had  not  been  able.  That  failure  was  not 
her  crime,  but  Diana's. 

Fanny  looked  haughtily  round  the  table.  How  many 

186 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

of  them  knew  what  she  knew?  Suddenly  a  name  re- 
curred to  her! — the  name  announced  by  the  butler  and 
repeated  by  Mr.  Birch.  At  the  moment  she  had  been 
thinking  of  other  things;  it  had  roused  no  sleeping  as- 
sociations. But  now  the  obscure  under-self  sent  it  echo- 
ing through  the  brain.  Fanny  caught  her  breath.  The 
sudden  excitement  made  her  head  swim. — She  turned 
and  looked  at  the  white-haired  elderly  man  sitting  be- 
tween her  and  Diana. 

Sir  James  Chide! 

(.Memories  of  the  common  gossip  in  her  home,  of  the 
talk  of  the  people  on  the  steamer,  of  pages  in  that  volume 
of  Famous  Trials  she  had  studied  on  the  voyage  with 
such  a  close  and  unsavory  curiosity  danced  through 
the  girl's  consciousness.  Well,  he  Iqiew!  No  good  pre- 
tending there.  And  he  came  to  see  Diana — and  still 
Diana  knew  nothing!  Mrs.  Colwood  must  simply  be 
telling  lies — silly  lies!  Fanny  glanced  at  her  with  con- 
tempt. 

Yet  so  bewildered  was  she  that  when  Sir  James  ad- 
dressed her,  she  stared  at  him  in  what  seemed  a  fit  of 
shyness.  And  when  she  began  to  talk  it  was  at  random, 
for  her  mind  was  in  a  tumult.  But  Sir  James  soon 
divined  her.  Vulgarity,  conceit,  ill-breeding — the  great 
lawyer  detected  them  in  five  minutes'  conversation. 
Nor  were  they  unexpected;  for  he  was  well  acquainted 
with  Miss  Fanny's  origins.  Yet  the  perception  of  them 
made  the  situation  still  more  painfully  interesting  to 
him,  and  no  less  mysterious  than  before.  For  he  saw 
no  substantial  change  in  it;  and  he  was,  in  truth,  no  less 
perplexed  than  Fanny.  If  certain  things  had  happened 
in  consequence  of  Miss  Merton's  advent,  neither  he  nor 
any  other  guest  would  be  sitting  at  Diana  Mallory's  table 

187 


The  Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

that  day;  of  that  he  was  morally  certain.     Therefore, 
they  had  not  happened. 

He  returned  with  a  redoubled  tenderness  of  feeling 
to  his  conversation  with  Diana.  He  had  come  to  Over- 
ton  for  the  Sunday,  at  great  professional  inconvenience, 
for  nothing  in  the  world  but  that  he  must  pay  this  visit 
to  Beechcote;  and  he  had  approached  the  house  with 
dread — dread  lest  he  should  find  a  face  stricken  with  the 
truth.  That  dread  was  momentarily  lifted,  for  in  those 
beautiful  dark  eyes  of  Diana  innocence  and  ignorance 
were  still  written;  but  none  the  less  he  trembled  for  her; 
he  saw  her  as  he  had  seen  her  at  Tallyn,  a  creature 
doomed,  and  consecrate  to  pain.  Why,  in  the  name  of 
justice  and  pity,  had  her  father  done  this  thing?  So 
it  is  that  a  man's  love,  for  lack  of  a  little  simple  courage 
and  common-sense,  turns  to  cruelty. 

Poor,  poor  child! — At  first  sight  he,  like  the  Rough- 
sedges,  had  thought  her  pale  and  depressed.  Then  he  had 
given  his  message.  "Marsham  has  arrived! — turned  up 
at  Overton  a  couple  of  hours  ago — and  told  us  to  say  he 
would  follow  us  here  after  luncheon.  He  wired  to  Lady 
Felton  this  morning  to  ask  if  she  would  take  him  in  for 
the  Sunday.  Some  big  political  meeting  he  had  for  to- 
night is  off.  Lady  Lucy  stays  in  town — and  Tallyn  is 
shut  up.  But  Lady  Felton  was,  of  course,  delighted  to 
get  him.  He  arrived  about  noon.  Civility  to  his  hostess 
kept  him  to  luncheon — then  he  pursues  us!" 

Since  then! — no  lack  of  sparkle  in  the  eyes  or  color 
in  the  cheek!  Yet  even  so,  to  Sir  James's  keen  sense, 
there  was  an  increase,  a  sharpening,  in  Diana's  person- 
ality, of  the  wistful,  appealing  note,  which  had  been  al- 
ways touching,  always  perceptible,  even  through  the 
radiant  days  of  her  Tallyn  visit. 

188 


The  Testing   of  Diana   Mallory 

Ah,  well!— like  Dr.  Roughsedge,  only  with  a  far  deeper 
urgency,  he,  too,  'for  want  of  any  better  plan,  invoked 
the  coming  lover.  In  God's  name,  let  Marsham  take  the 
thing  into  his  own  hands! — stand  on  his  own  feet! — 
dissipate  a  nightmare  which  ought  never  to  have  arisen 
— and  gather  the  girl  to  his  heart. 

Meanwhile  Fanny's  attention — and  the  surging  anger 
of  her  thoughts — were  more  and  more  directed  upon  the 
girl  with  the  fair  hair  opposite.  A  natural  bond  of  sym- 
pathy seemed  somehow  to  have  arisen  between  her  and 
this  Miss  Drake — Diana's  victim.  Alicia  Drake,  look- 
ing up,  was  astonished,  time  after  time,  to  find  herself 
stared  at  by  the  common-looking  young  woman  across 
the  table,  who  was,  she  understood,  Miss  Mallory's 
cousin.  What  dress,  and  what  manners!  One  did  not 
often  meet  that  kind  of  person  in  society.  She  wished 
Oliver  joy  of  his  future  relations. 

In  the  old  panelled  drawing-room  the  coffee  was  cir- 
culating. Sir  James  was  making  friends  with  Mrs.  Col- 
wood,  whose  gentle  looks  and  widow's  dress  appealed  to 
him.  Fanny,  Miss  Drake,  and  Mr.  Birch  made  a  group 
by  the  fireplace;  Mr.  Birch  was  posing  as  an  authority  on 
the  drama;  Fanny,  her  dark  eyes  fixed  upon  Alicia,  was 
not  paying  much  attention;  and  Alicia,  with  ill-con- 
cealed impatience,  was  yawning  behind  her  glove.  Hugh 
Roughsedge  was  examining  the  Donatello  photograph. 

"Do  you  like  it?"  said  Diana,  standing  beside  him. 
She  was  conscious  of  having  rather  neglected  him  at 
lunch,  and  there  was  a  dancing  something  in  her  own 
heart  which  impelled  her  to  kindness  and  compunction. 
Was  not  the  good,  inarticulate  youth,  too,  going  out  into 

189 


The  Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

the  wilds,  his  life  in  his  hands,  in  the  typical  English  way  ? 
The  soft  look  in  her  eyes  which  expressed  this  mingled 
feeling  did  not  mislead  the  recipient.  <v  He  had  overheard 
Sir  James  Chide's  message ;  he  understood  her. 

Presently.  Mrs.  Roughsedge,  seeing  that  it  was  a  sunny 
day  and  the  garden  looked  tempting,  asked  to  be  allowed 
to  inspect  a  new  greenhouse  that  Diana  was  putting 
up.  The  door  leading  out  of  the  drawing-room  to 
the  moat  and  the  formal  garden  was  thrown  open; 
cloaks  and  hats  were  brought,  and  the  guests  streamed 
out. 

"You  are  not  coming?"  said  Hugh  Roughsedge  to 
Diana. 

At  this  question  he  saw  a  delicate  flush,  beyond  her 
control,  creep  over  her  cheek  and  throat. 

"  I — I  am  expecting  Mr.  Marsham,"  she  said.  "  Per- 
haps I  ought  to  stay." 

Sir  James  Chide  looked  at  his  watch. 

"  He  should  be  here  any  minute.  We  will  overtake 
you,  Captain  Roughsedge." 

l<Hugh  went  off  beside  Mrs.  Colwood.  Well,  well,  it 
was  all  plain  enough!  It  was  only  a  fortnight  since  the 
Marshams  had  gone  up  to  town  for  the  Parliamentary 
season.  And  here  he  was,  again  upon  the  scene.  Im- 
possible, evidently,  to  separate  them  longer.  Let  them 
only  get  engaged,  and  be  done  with  it!  He  stalked  on 
beside  Mrs.  Colwood,  tongue-tied  and  miserable. 

Meanwhile,  Sir  James  lingered  with  Diana.  "~A  charm- 
ing old  place!"  he  said,  looking  about  him.  "But  Mar- 
sham  tells  me  the  Vavasours  have  been  odious." 

"We  have  got  the  better  of  them!  Mr.  Marsham 
helped  me." 

"  He  has  an  excellent  head,  has  Oliver.    This  year  he 
190 


The   Testing    of   Diana   Mallorij 

will  have  special  need  of  it.  It  will  be  a  critical  time  for 
him." 

Diana  gave  a  vague  assent.  She  had,  in  truth,  two 
recent  letters  from  Marsham  in  her  pocket  at  that  mo- 
ment, giving  a  brilliant  and  minute  account  of  the  Par- 
liamentary situation.  But  she  hid  the  fact,  warm  and 
close,  like  a  brooding  bird;  only  drawing  on  her  com- 
panion to  talk  politics,  that  she  might  hear  Marsham's 
name  sometimes,  and  realize  the  situation  Marsham  had 
described  to  her,  from  another  point  of  view. — And  all 
the  time  her  ear  listened  for  the  sound  of  hoofs,  and  for 
the  front  door  bell. 

At  last!  The  peal  echoed  through  the  old  house. 
Sir  James  rose,  and,  instinctively,  Diana  rose  too.  Was 
there  a  smile — humorous  and  tender — in  the  lawyer's 
blue  eyes? 

"  I'll  go  and  finish  my  cigarette  out-of-doors.  Such  a 
tempting  afternoon!" 

And  out  he  hurried,  before  Diana  could  stop  him. 
She  remained  standing,  with  soft  hurrying  breath,  look- 
ing out  into  the  garden.  On  a  lower  terrace  she  saw 
Fanny  and  Alicia  Drake  walking  together,  and  could  not 
help  a  little  laugh  of  amusement  that  seemed  to  come 
out  of  a  heart  of  content.  Then  the  door  opened,  and 
Marsham  was  there. 


CHAPTER  IX 

MARSHAM'S  first  feeling,  as  he  advanced  into  the 
room,  and,  looking  round  him,  saw  that  Diana  was 
alone,  was  one  of  acute  physical  pleasure.  The  old  room 
with  its  mingling  of  color,  at  once  dim  and  rich;  the 
sunlit  garden  through  the  casement  windows ;  the  scent  of 
the  logs  burning  on  the  hearth,  and  of  the  hyacinths  and 
narcissus  with  which  the  warm  air  was  perfumed;  the 
signs  everywhere  of  a  woman's  life  and  charm;  all  these 
first  impressions  leaped  upon  him,  aiding  the  remembered 
spell  which  had  recalled  him — hot-foot  and  eager — from 
London,  to  this  place,  on  the  very  first  opportunity. 

And  if  her  surroundings  were  poetic,  how  much  more 
so  was  the  girl-figure  itself! — the  slender  form,  the  dark 
head,  and  that  shrinking  joy  which  spoke  in  her  gesture, 
in  the  movement  she  made  toward  him  across  the  room. 
She  checked  it  at  once,  but  not  before  a  certain  wildness 
in  it  had  let  loose  upon  him  a  rush  of  delight. 

"  Sir  James  explained  ?"  he  said,  as  he  took  her  hand. 

"  Yes.  I  had  no  notion  you  would  be  here — this  week- 
end." 

"Nor  had  I — till  last  night.  Then  an  appointment 
broken  down — and — me  void!" 

"You  stay  over  to-morrow?" 

"  Of  course!  But  it  is  absurd  that  the  Feltons  should 
be  five  miles  away!" 

She  stammered: 

192 


The  Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

"  It  is  a  charming  ride." 

"But  too  long! — One  does  not  want  to  lose  time." 

She  was  now  sitting;  and  he  beside  her.  Mechanically 
she  had  taken  up  some  embroidery — to  shield  her  eyes. 
He  examined  the  reds  and  blues  of  the  pattern,  the  white 
fingers,  the  bending  cheek.  Suddenly,  like  Sir  James 
Chide  or  Hugh  Roughsedge,  he  was  struck  with  a  sense 
of  change.  The  Dian  look  which  matched  her  name,  the 
proud  gayety  and  frankness  of  it,  were  somehow  muffled 
and  softened.  And  altogether  her  aspect  was  a  little 
frail  and  weary.  The  perception  brought  with  it  an 
appeal  to  the  protective  strength  of  the  man.  What  were 
her  cares  ?  Trifling,  womanish  things !  He  would  make 
her  confess  them;  and  then  conjure  them  away  I 

"  You  have  your  cousin  with  you  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  She  will  make  you  a  long  visit  ?" 

"Another  week  or  two,  I  think."  . 

"You  are  a  believer  in  family  traditions? — But  of 
course  you  are!" 

"Why  'of  course'?'  Her  color  had  sparkled  again, 
but  the  laugh  was  not  spontaneous. 

"I  see  that  you  are  in  love  with  even  your  furthest 
kinsmen — you  must  be — being  an  Imperialist!  Now  I 
am  frankly  bored  by  my  kinsmen — near  and  far." 

"All  the  same— you  ask  their  help!" 

"Oh  yes,  in  war;  pure  self-interest  on  both  sides." 

"You  have  been  preaching  this  in  the  House  of 
Commons?" 

The  teasing  had  answered.  No  more  veiling  of  the 
eyes! 

"  No — I  have  made  no  speeches.  Next  week,  in  the 
Vote  of  Censure  debate,  I  shall  get  my  chance." 

193 


The   Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

"To  talk  Little  Englandism?     Alack  I" 

The  tone  was  soft — it  ended  in  a  sigh. 

"Does  it  really  trouble  you?" 

She  was  looking  down  at  her  work.  Her  fingers  drew 
the  silk  out  and  in — a  little  at  random.  She  shook  her 
head  slightly,  without  reply. 

"  I  believe  it  does,"  he  said,  gently,  still  smiling. 
"Well,  when  I  make  my  speech,  I  shall  remember 
that." 

She  looked  up  suddenly.  Their  eyes  met  full.  On 
her  just  parted  lips  the  words  she  had  meant  to  say  re- 
mained unspoken.  Then  a  murmur  of  voices  from  the 
garden  reached  them,  as  though  some  one  approached. 
Marsham  rose. 

"Shall  we  go  into  the  garden?  I  ought  to  speak  to 
Robins.  How  is  he  getting  on?" 

Robins  was  the  new  head  gardener,  appointed  on 
Marsham's  recommendation. 

"  Excellently."  Diana  had  also  risen.  "  I  will  get  my 
hat." 

He  opened  the  door  for  her.  Hang  those  people  out- 
side !  But  for  them  she  would  have  been  already  in  his 
arms. 

Left  to  himself,  he  walked  to  and  fro,  restless  and 
smiling.  No  more  self-repression — no  more  politic  de- 
lay! The  great  moment  of  life — grasped — captured  at 
last!  He  in  his  turn  understood  the  Faust-cry — "  Linger 
awhile! — thou  art  so  fair!"  Only  let  him  pierce  to  the 
heart  of  it — realize  it,  covetously,  to  the  full!  All  the 
ordinary  worldly  motives  were  placated  and  at  rest; 
due  sacrifice  had  been  done  to  them;  they  teased  no  more. 
Upgathered  and  rolled  away,  like  storm-winds  from  the 
sea,  they  had  left  a  shining  and  a  festal  wave  for  love  to 

194 


The   Testing    of   Diana  Mallortj 

venture  on.     Let  him  only  yield  himself — feel  the  full 
swell  of  the  divine  force ! 

He  moved  to  the  window,  and  looked  out. 
zrBirch! — What  on  earth  brought  that  creature  to 
Beechcote.  His  astonishment  was  great,  and  perhaps 
in  the  depths  of  his  mind  there  emerged  the  half-amused 
perception  of  a  feminine  softness  and  tolerance  which 
masculine  judgment  must  correct.  She  did  not  know 
how  precious  she  was ;  and  that  it  must  not  be  made  too 
easy  for  the  common  world  to  approach  her.  All  that 
was  picturesque  and  important,  of  course,  in  the  lower 
classes;  labor  men,  Socialists,  and  the  like.  But  not 
vulgar  half-baked  fellows,  who  meant  nothing  politically, 
and  must  yet  be  treated  like  gentlemen.  Ah!  There 
were  the  Roughsedges — the  Captain  not  gone  yet? — Sir 
James  and  Mrs.  Colwood — nice  little  creature,  that  com- 
panion— they  would  find  some  use  for  her  in  the  future. 
And  on  the  lower  terrace,  Alicia  Drake,  and — that  girl? 
He  laughed,  amusing  himself  with  the  thought  of  Alicia's 
plight.  Alicia,  the  arrogant,  the  fastidious!  The  odd 
thing  was  that  she  seemed  to  be  absorbed  in  the  con- 
versation that  was  going  on.  He  saw  her  pause  at  the 
end  of  the  terrace,  look  round  her,  and  deliberately  lead 
the  way  down  a  long  grass  path,  away  from  the  rest  of 
the  party.  Was  the  cousin  good  company,  after  all? 

Diana  returned.  A  broad  black  hat,  and  sables  which 
had  been  her  father's  last  gift  to  her,  provided  the  slight 
change  in  surroundings  which  pleases  the  eye  and  sense 
of  a  lover.  And  as  a  man  brought  up  in  wealth,  and  him- 
self potentially  rich,  he  found  it  secretly  agreeable  that 
costly  things  became  her.  There  should  be  no  lack  of 
them  in  the  future. 

They  stepped  out  upon  the  terrace.     At  sight  of  them 

195 


The   Testing    of  Diana  Mallorg 

the  Roughsedges  approached,  while  Mr.  Fred  Birch 
lagged  behind  to  inspect  the  sundial.  After  a  few  words' 
conversation,  Marsham  turned  resolutely  away. 

"Miss  Mallory  wants  to  show  me  a  new  gardener." 

The  old  doctor  smiled  at  his  wife.  Hugh  Roughsedge 
watched  the  departing  figures.  Excellently  matched, 
he  must  needs  admit,  in  aspect  and  in  height.  Was  it 
about  to  happen? — or  had  it  already  happened?  He 
braced  himself,  soldierlike,  to  the  inevitable. 

"  You  know  Mr.  Birch,"  said  Diana  to  her  companion, 
as  they  descended  to  the  lower  terrace,  and  passed  not 
very  far  from  that  gentleman. 

"  I  just  know  him,"  said  Marsham,  carelessly,  and 
bestowed  a  nod  in  the  direction  of  the  solicitor. 

"Had  he  not  something  to  do  with  your  election?" 
said  Diana,  astonished. 

"  My  election  ?"  cried  Marsham.  Then  he  laughed.  "  I 
suppose  he  has  been  drawing  the  long  bow,  as  usual.  Am  I 
impertinent  ? — or  may  I  ask,  how  you  came  to  know  him  ?" 

He  looked  at  her  smiling.     Diana  colored. 

"My  cousin  Fanny  made  acquaintance  with  him — in 
the  train." 

"I  see.  Here  are  our  two  cousins — coming  to  meet 
us.  Will  you  introduce  me?" 

For  Fanny  and  Miss  Drake  were  now  returning  slowly 
along  the  gravel  path  which  led  to  the  kitchen  garden. 
The  eyes  of  both  girls  were  fixed  on  the  pair  advancing 
toward  them.  Alicia  was  no  longer  impassive  or  haugh- 
ty. Like  her  companion,  she  appeared  to  have  been 
engaged  in  an  intimate  and  absorbing  conversation. 
Diana  could  not  help  looking  at  her  in  a  vague  surprise 
as  she  paused  in  front  of  them.  But  she  addressed  her- 
self to  her  cousin. 

196 


The  Testing    off  Diana   Mallor^ 

"Fanny,  I  want  to  introduce  Mr.  Marsham  to  you." 

Fanny  Merton  held  out  her  hand,  staring  a  little  oddly 
at  the  gentleman  presented  to  her.  Alicia  meanwhile 
was  looking  at  Diana,  while  she  spoke — with  emphasis — 
to  Marsham. 

"Could  you  order  my  horse,  Oliver?  I  think  we 
ought  to  be  going  back." 

"  Would  you  mind  asking  Sir  James  ?"  Marsham  point- 
ed to  the  upper  terrace.  "  I  have  something  to  see  to  in 
the  garden." 

Diana  said  hurriedly  that  Mrs.  Colwood  would  send 
the  order  to  the  stables,  and  that  she  herself  would  not 
be  long.  Alicia  took  no  notice  of  this  remark.  She  still 
looked  at  Oliver. 

"You'll  come  back  with  us,  won't  you?" 

Marsham  flushed.  "  I  have  only  just  arrived,"  he  said, 
rather  sharply.  "  Please  don't  wait  for  me. — Shall  we  go 
on?"  he  said,  turning  to  Diana. 

They  walked  on/  As  Diana  paused  at  the  iron  gate 
which  closed  the  long  walk,  she  looked  round  her  involun- 
tarily, and  saw  that  Alicia  and  Fanny  were  now  standing 
on  the  lower  terrace,  gazing  after  them.  It  struck  her  as 
strange  and  rude,  and  she  felt  the  slight  shock  she  had 
felt  several  times  already,  both  in  her  intercourse  with 
Fanny  and  in  her  acquaintance  with  Miss  Drake — as  of 
one  unceremoniously  jostled  or  repulsed. 

Marsham  meanwhile  was  full  of  annoyance.  That 
Alicia  should  still  treat  him  in  that  domestic,  possessive 
way — and  in  Diana's  presence — was  really  intolerable.  It 
must  be  stopped. 

He  paused  on  the  other  side  of  the  gate. 

"  After  all,  I  am  not  in  a  mood  to  see  Robins  to-day. 
Look! — the  light  is  going.  Will  you  show  me  the  path 

197 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

on  to  the  hill  ?  You  spoke  to  me  once  of  a  path  you  were 
fond  of." 

She  tried  to  laugh. 

"You  take  Robins  for  granted?" 

"  I  am  quite  indifferent  to  his  virtues — even  his  vices! 
This  chance — is  too  precious.  I  have  so  much  to  say 
to  you." 

She  led  the  way  in  silence.  The  hand  which  held  up 
her  dress  from  the  mire  trembled  a  little  unseen.  But 
her  sense  of  the  impending  crisis  had  given  her  more 
rather  than  less  dignity.  She  bore  her  dark  head  finely, 
with  that  unconscious  long  -  descended  instinct  of  the 
woman,  waiting  to  be  sued. 

They  found  a  path  beyond  the  garden,  winding  up 
through  a  leafless  wood.  Marsham  talked  of  indifferent 
things,  and  she  answered  him  with  spirit,  feeling  it  all,  so 
far,  a  queer  piece  of  acting.  Then  they  emerged  on  the 
side  of  the  hill  beside  a  little  basin  in  the  chalk,  where 
a  gnarled  thorn  or  two,  an  overhanging  beech,  and  a  bed 
of  withered  heather,  made  a  kind  of  intimate,  furnished 
place,  which  appealed  to  the  passer-by. 

"  Here  is  the  sunset,"  said  Marsham,  looking  round 
him.  "  Are  you  afraid  to  sit  a  little  ?" 

He  took  a  light  overcoat  he  had  been  carrying  over 
his  arm  and  spread  it  on  the  heather.  She  protested  that 
it  was  winter,  and  coats  were  for  wearing.  He  took  no 
notice,  and  she  tamely  submitted.  He  placed  her  regally, 
with  an  old  thorn  for  support  and  canopy;  and  then  he 
stood  a  moment  beside  her  gazing  westward. 

They  looked  over  undulations  of  the  chalk,  bare 
stubble  fields  and  climbing  woods,  bathed  in  the  pale 
gold  of  a  February  sunset.  The  light  was  pure  and 
wan  —  the  resting  earth  shone  through  it  gently  yet 

198 


The   Testing    of  Diana    Mallorij 

austerely;  only  the  great  woods  darkly  massed  on  the 
horizon  gave  an  accent  of  mysterious  power  to  a  scene 
in  which  Nature  otherwise  showed  herself  the  tamed  and 
homely  servant  of  men.  Below  were  the  trees  of  Beech- 
cote,  the  gray  walls,  and  the  windows  touched  with  a 
last  festal  gleam. 

Suddenly  Marsham  dropped  down  beside  her. 

"I  see  it  all  with  new  eyes,"  he  said,  passionately. 
"I  have  lived  in  this  country  from  my  childhood;  and 
I  never  saw  it  before!  Diana! — " 

He  raised  her  hand,  which  only  faintly  resisted;  he 
looked  into  her  eyes.  She  had  grown  very  pale — enchant- 
ingly  pale.  There  was  in  her  the  dim  sense  of  a  great 
fulfilment;  the  fulfilment  of  Nature's  promise  to  her; 
implicit  in  her  woman's  lot  from  the  beginning. 

"Diana! — "  the  low  voice  searched  her  heart — "You 
know — what  I  have  come  to  say?     I  meant  to  have 
waited  a  little  longer — I  was  afraid ! — but  I  couldn't  wait  \j 
— it  was  beyond  my  strength.     Diana! — come  to  me, 
darling! — be  my  wife!" 

He  kissed  the  hand  he  held.  His  eyes  beseeched; 
and  into  hers,  widely  fixed  upon  him,  had  sprung  tears — 
the  tears  of  life's  supremest  joy.  Her  lip  trembled. 

"I'm  not  worthy!"  she  said,  in  a  whisper — 'I'm  not 
worthy!" 

"Foolish  Diana! — Darling,  foolish  Diana! — Give  me 
my  answer!" 

And  now  he  held  both  hands,  and  his  confident  smile 
dazzled  her. 

"  I — "  Her  voice  broke.  She  tried  again,  still  in  a 
whisper.  "  I  will  be  everything  to  you — that  a  woman 
can." 

At  that  he  put  his  arm  round  her,  and  she  let  him 

199 


The    Testing    of   Diana    Mallorg 

take  that  first  kiss,  in  which  she  gave  him  her  youth, 
her  life — all  that  she  had  and  was.  Then  she  withdrew 
herself,  and  he  saw  her  brow  contract,  and  her  mouth. 

"I  know!" — he  said,  tenderly — -"I  know!  Dear,  I 
think  he  would  have  been  glad.  He  and  I  made  friends 
from  the  first." 

She  plucked  at  the  heather  beside  her,  trying  for  com- 
posure. "  He  would  have  been  so  glad  of  a  son — so 
glad—" 

And  then,  by  contrast  with  her  own  happiness,  the 
piteous  memory  of  her  father  overcame  her;  and  she 
cried  a  little,  hiding  her  eyes  against  Marsham's  shoulder. 

"There!"  she  said,  at  last,  withdrawing  herself,  and 
brushing  the  tears  away.  "  That's  all — that's  done  with 
— except  in  one's  heart.  Did — did  Lady  Lucy  know?" 

She  looked  at  him  timidly.  Her  aspect  had  never 
been  more  lovely.  Tears  did  not  disfigure  her,  and  as 
compared  with  his  first  remembrance  of  her,  there  was 
now  a  touching  significance,  an  incomparable  softness  in 
all  she  said  and  did,  which  gave  him  a  bewildering  sense 
of  treasures  to  come,  of  joys  for  the  gathering. 

Suddenly  —  involuntarily  —  there  flashed  through  his 
mind  the  recollection  of  his  first  love-passage  with  Alicia 
— how  she  had  stung  him  on,  teased,  and  excited  him. 
He  crushed  it  at  once,  angrily. 

As  to  Lady  Lucy,  he  smilingly  declared  that  she  had 
no  doubt  guessed  something  was  in  the  wind. 

"  I  have  been  '  gey  ill  to  live  with '  since  we  got  up  to 
town.  And  when  the  stupid  meeting  I  had  promised  to 
speak  at  was  put  off,  my  mother  thought  I  had  gone  off 
my  head — from  my  behavior.  'What  are  you  going  to 
the  Feltons'  for? — You  never  care  a  bit  about  them.' 
So  at  last  I  brought  her  the  map  and  made  her  look  at  it 

200 


The   Testing   of   Diana   Mallorg 

— '  Felton  Park  to  Brinton,  3  miles— Haylesford,  4  miles 
— Beechcote,  2  miles  and  \ — Beechcote  Manor,  half  a  mile 
— total,  ten  miles.' — '  Oliver!' — she  got  so  red! — '  you  are 

going  to  propose  to  Miss  Mallory!'     'Well,  mother! 

and  what  have  you  got  to  say  ?'  So  then  she  smiled— 
and  kissed  me — and  sent  you  messages — which  I'll  give 
you  when  there's  time.  My  mother  is  a  rather  formid- 
able person — no  one  who  knew  her  would  ever  dream 
of  taking  her  consent  to  anything  for  granted;  but  this 
time" — his  laugh  was  merry — "I  didn't  even  think  of 
asking  it!" 

"  I  shall  love  her — dearly,"  murmured  Diana. 

"Yes,  because  you  won't  be  afraid  of  her.  Her 
standards  are  hardly  made  for  this  wicked  world.  But 
you'll  hold  her — you'll  manage  her.  If  you'd  said  'No* 
to  me,  she  would  have  felt  cheated  of  a  daughter." 

"I'm  afraid  Mrs.  Fotheringham  won't  like  it,"  said 
Diana,  ruefully,  letting  herself  be  gathered  again  into  his 
arms. 

"  My  sister  ?  I  don't  know  what  to  say  about  Isabel, 
dearest — unless  I  parody  an  old  saying.  She  and  I 
have  never  agreed — except  in  opinion.  We  have  been  on 
the  same  side — and  in  hot  opposition — since  our  child- 
hood. No — I  dare  say  she  will  be  thorny !  Why  did  you 
fight  me  so  well,  little  rebel  ?" 

He  looked  down  into  her  dark  eyes,  revelling  in  their 
sweetness,  and  in  the  bliss  of  her  surrendered  beauty. 
If  this  was  not  his  first  proposal,  it  was  his  first  true 
passion — of  that  he  was  certain. 

She  released  herself — rosy — and  still  thinking  of  Mrs. 
Fotheringham.  "Oliver!" — she  laid  her  hand  shyly  on 
his — "  neither  she  nor  you  will  want  me  to  stifle  what  I 
think — to  deny  what  I  do  really  believe  ?  I  dare  say  a 

14  2OI 


The  Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

woman's  politics  aren't  worth  much  " — she  laughed  and 
sighed. 

"  I  say! — don't  take  that  line  with  Isabel!" 

"Well,  mine  probably  aren't  worth  much — but  they 
are  mine — and  papa  taught  them  me — and  I  can't  give 
them  up." 

"  What  '11  you  do,  darling  ? — canvass  against  me  ?"  He 
kissed  her  hand  again. 

"No — but  I  can't  agree  with  you!" 

"Of  course  you  can't.  Which  of  us,  I  wonder,  will 
shake  the  other  ?  How  do  you  know  that  I'm  not  in  a 
blue  fright  for  my  principles?" 

"You'll  explain  to  me? — you'll  not  despise  me?"  she 
said,  softly,  bending  toward  him;  "I'll  always,  always 
try  and  understand." 

Who  could  resist  an  attitude  so  feminine,  yet  so  loyal, 
at  once  so  old  and  new  ?  Marsham  felt  himself  already 
attacked  by  the  poison  of  Toryism,  and  Diana,  with  a 
happy  start,  envisaged  horizons  that  her  father  never 
knew,  and  questions  where  she  had  everything  to  learn. 

Hand  in  hand,  trembling  still  under  the  thrill  of  the 
moment  which  had  fused  their  lives,  they  fell  into 
happy  discursive  talk :  of  the  Tallyn  visit  —  of  her 
thoughts  and  his — of  what  Lady  Lucy  and  Mr.  Ferrier 
had  said,  or  would  say.  In  the  midst  of  it  the  fall  of 
temperature,  which  came  with  the  sunset,  touched  them, 
and  Marsham  sprang  up  with  the  peremptoriness  of 
a  new  relationship,  insisting  that  he  must  take  her  home 
out  of  the  chilly  dusk.  As  they  stood  lingering  in  the 
hollow,  unwilling  to  leave  the  gnarled  thorns,  the  heather- 
carpet,  and  the  glow  of  western  light — symbols  to  them 
henceforth  that  they  too,  in  their  turn,  amid  the  endless 
generations,  had  drunk  the  mystic  cup,  and  shared  the 

202 


The  Testing    o*   Diana  Mallorg 

sacred  feast — Diana  perceived  some  movement  far  below, 
on  the  open  space  in  front  of  Beechcote.  A  little  peering 
through  the  twilight  showed  them  two  horses  with  their 
riders  leaving  the  Beechcote  door. 

"Oh!  your  cousin — and  Sir  James!"  cried  Diana,  in 
distress,  "  and  I  haven't  said  good-bye — " 

"You  will  see  them  soon  again.  And  I  shall  carry 
them  the  news  to-night." 

"  Will  you  ?     Shall  I  allow  it  ?" 

Marsham  laughed;  he  caught  her  hand  again,  slipped 
it  possessively  within  his  left  arm,  and  held  it  there  as 
they  went  slowly  down  the  path.  Diana  could  not  think 
with  any  zest  of  Alicia  and  her  reception  of  the  news. 
A  succession  of  trifles  had  shown  her  quite  clearly  that 
Alicia  was  not  her  friend;  why,  she  did  not  know.  She 
remembered  many  small  advances  on  her  own  part. 

But  at  the  mention  of  Sir  James  Chide,  her  face 
lit  up. 

"He  has  been  so  kind  to  me!"  she  said,  looking  up 
into  Marsham' s  face — "so  very  kind!" 

Her  eyes  showed  a  touch  of  passion;  the  passion  that 
some  natures  can  throw  into  gratitude ;  whether  for  little 
or  much.  Marsham  smiled. 

"  He  fell  in  love  with  you!  Yes — he  is  a  dear  old  boy. 
One  can  well  imagine  that  he  has  had  a  romance!" 

"Has  he?" 

"It  is  always  said  that  he  was  in  love  with  a  woman 
whom  he  defended  on  a  charge  of  murder." 

Diana  exclaimed. 

"  He  had  met  her  when  they  were  both  very  young, 
and  lost  his  heart  to  her.  Then  she  married  and  he  lost 
sight  of  her.  He  accepted  a  brief  in  this  murder  case, 
ten  years  later,  not  knowing  her  identity,  and  they  met 

203 


The  Testing    of  Diana    Mallorg 

for  the  first  time  when  he  went  to  see  her  with  her 
solicitor  in  prison." 

Diana  breathlessly  asked  for  the  rest  of  the  story. 

"  He  defended  her  magnificently.  It  was  a  shocking 
case.  The  sentence  was  commuted,  but  she  died  almost 
immediately.  They  say  Sir  James  has  never  got  over  it." 

Diana  pondered ;  her  eyes  dim. 

"How  one  would  like  to  do  something  for  him  I — to 
give  him  pleasure!" 

Marsham  caressed  her  hand. 

"  So  you  shall,  darling.  He  shall  be  one  of  our  best 
friends.  But  he  mustn't  make  Ferrier  jealous." 

Diana  smiled  happily.  She  looked  forward  to  all  the 
new  ties  of  kindred  or  friendship  that  Marsham  was  to 
bring  her — modestly  indeed,  yet  in  the  temper  of  one 
who  feels  herself  spiritually  rich  and  capable  of  giving. 

"  I  shall  love  all  your  friends,"  she  said,  with  a  bright 
look.  "  I'm  glad  you  have  so  many!" 

"  Does  that  mean  that  you've  felt  rather  lonely  some- 
times? Poor  darling!"  he  said,  tenderly,  "it  must  have 
been  solitary  often  at  Portofino." 

"Oh  no — I  had  papa."  Then  her  truthfulness  over- 
came her.  "  I  don't  mean  to  say  I  didn't  often  want 
friends  of  my  own  age — girl  friends  especially." 

"  You  can't  have  them  now!" — he  said,  passionately, 
as  they  paused  at  a  wicket-gate,  under  a  yew-tree.  "  I 
want  you  all — all — to  myself."  And  in  the  shadow  of 
the  yew  he  put  his  arms  round  her  again,  and  their 
hearts  beat  together. 

But  our  nature  moves  within  its  own  inexorable 
limits.  In  Diana,  Marsham's  touch,  Marsham's  embrace 
awakened  that  strange  mingled  happiness,  that  happiness 
reared  and  based  on  tragedy,  which  the  pure  and  sensitive 

204 


The    Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

feel  in  the  crowning  moments  of  life.  Love  is  tortured 
by  its  own  intensity;  and  the  thought  of  death  strikes 
through  the  experience  which  means  the  life  of  the  race. 
As  her  lips  felt  Marsham's  kiss,  she  knew,  as  generations 
of  women  have  known  before  her,  that  life  could  give  her 
no  more;  and  she  also  knew  that  it  was  transiency  and 
parting  that  made  it  so  intolerably  sweet. 

"  Till  death  us  do  part,"  she  said  to  herself.  And  in  the 
intensity  of  her  submission  to  the  common  lot  she  saw 
down  the  years  the  end  of  what  had  now  begun — herself 
lying  quiet  and  blessed,  in  the  last  sleep,  her  dead  hand 
in  Marsham's. 

"  Why  must  we  go  home  ?"  he  said,  discontentedly, 
as  he  released  her.  "One  turn  more! — up  the  avenue! 
There  is  light  enough  yet!" 

She  yielded  weakly;  pacifying  her  social  conscience 
by  the  half-penitent  remark  that  Mrs.  Colwood  would 
have  said  good-bye  to  her  guests,  and  that — she — she 
supposed  they  would  soon  have  to  know. 

"  Well,  as  I  want  you  to  marry  me  in  six  weeks/'  said 
Marsham,  joyously,  "  I  suppose  they  will." 

"Six  weeks!"     She  gasped.    "Oh,  how  unreasonable!" 

"Dearest! — A  fortnight  would  do  for  frocks.  And 
whom  have  we  to  consult  but  ourselves?  I  know  you 
have  no  near  relations.  As  for  cousins,  it  doesn't  take 
long  to  write  them  a  few  notes,  and  ask  them  to  the 
wedding." 

Diana  sighed. 

"  My  only  cousins  are  the  Mertons.  They  are  all  in 
Barbadoes  but  Fanny." 

Her  tone  changed  a  little.  In  her  thoughts,  she  added, 
hurriedly:  "  I  sha'n't  have  any  bridesmaids  1" 

205 


The   Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

Marsham,  discreetly,  made  no  reply.  Personally,  he 
hoped  that  Miss  Merton's  engagements  might  take  her 
safely  back  to  Barbadoes  before  the  wedding-day.  But 
if  not,  he  and  his  would  no  doubt  know  how  to  deal  with 
her — civilly  and  firmly — as  people  must  learn  to  deal  with 
their  distasteful  relations. 

Meanwhile  on  Diana's  mind  there  had  descended  a 
sudden  cloud  of  thought,  dimming  the  ecstasy  of  her  joy. 
The  February  day  was  dying  in  a  yellowish  dusk,  full  of 
beauty.  They  were  walking  along  a  narrow  avenue  of 
tall  limes  which  skirted  the  Beechcote  lands,  and  took 
them  past  the  house.  Above  their  heads  the  trees  met 
in  a  brown-and-purple  tracery  of  boughs,  and  on  theii 
right,  through  the  branches,  they  saw  a  pale  full  moon, 
throning  it  in  a  silver  sky.  The  mild  air,  the  move- 
ments of  the  birds,  the  scents  from  the  earth  and  bushes 
spoke  of  spring;  and  suddenly  Diana  perceived  the  gate 
leading  to  the  wood  where  that  very  morning  the  subtle 
message  of  the  changing  year  had  come  upon  her, 
rending  and  probing.  A  longing  to  tell  Marsham  all  her 
vague  troubles  rose  in  her,  held  back  by  a  natural  shrink- 
ing. But  the  longing  prevailed,  quickened  by  the  loyal 
sense  that  she  must  quickly  tell  him  all  she  knew  about 
herself  and  her  history,  since  there  was  nobody  else  to 
tell  him. 

"  Oliver!" — she  began,  hurriedly — "  I  ought  to  tell  you 
— I  don't  think  you  know.  My  name  wasn't  Mallory  to 
begin  with — my  father  took  that  name." 

Marsham  gave  a  little  start. 

"Dear — how  surprising! — and  how  interesting!  Tell 
me  all  you  can — from  the  year  One." 

He  smiled  upon  her,  with  a  sparkling  look  that  asked 
for  all  her  history.  But  secretly  he  had  been  conscious  of 

?o6 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorij 

a  shock.  Lately  he  had  made  a  few  inquiries  about  the 
Welsh  Mallorys.  And  the  answers  had  been  agreeable; 
though  the  old  central  stock  of  the  name,  to  which  he 
presumed  Diana  belonged,  was  said  to  be  extinct.  No 
doubt — so  he  had  reflected — it  had  come  to  an  end  in 
her  father. 

"Mallory  was  the  name  of  my 'father's  mother.  He 
took  it  for  various  reasons — I  never  quite  understood — 
and  I  know  a  good  deal  of  property  came  to  him.  But 
his  original  name — my  name — was  Sparling." 

"  Sparling!"  A  pause.  "  And  have  you  any  Sparling 
relations." 

"No.  They  all  died  out — I  think — but  I  know  so 
little! — when  I  was  small.  However,  I  have  a  box  of 
Sparling  papers  which  I  have  never  examined.  Perhaps 
— some  day — -we  might  look  at  them  together." 

Her  voice  shook  a  little. 

"You  have  never  looked  at  them?" 

"  Never." 

"But  why,  dearest?" 

"  It  always  seemed  to  make  papa  so  unhappy — any- 
thing to  do  with  his  old  name.  Oliver!" — she  turned 
upon  him  suddenly,  and  for  the  first  time  she  clung  to 
him,  hiding  her  face  against  his  shoulder — "Oliver! — 
I  don't  know  what  made  him  unhappy — I  don't  know 
why  he  changed  his  name.  Sometimes  I  think — there 
may  have  been  some  terrible  thing  between  him — and 
my  mother." 

He  put  his  arm  round  her,  close  and  tenderly. 

"What  makes  you  think  that?"  Then  he  whispered 
to  her — "  Tell  your  lover — your  husband — tell  him  every- 
thing." 

She  shrank  in  delicious  tremor  from  the  great  word, 

207 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

and  it  was  a  few  moments  before  she  could  collect  her 
thoughts.  Then  she  said — still  resting  against  him  in 
the  dark — and  in  a  low  rapid  voice,  as  though  she  fol- 
lowed the  visions  of  an  inner  sense: 

"  She  died  when  I  was  only  four.  I  just  remember — 
it  is  almost  my  first  recollection  of  anything — seeing  her 
carried  up-stairs — "  'She  broke  off.  "And  oh!  it's  so 
strange! — " 

"Strange?     She  was  ill?" 

"  Yes,  but — what  I  seem  to  remember  never  explains 
itself — and  I  did  not  dare  to  ask  papa.  She  hadn't  been 
with  us — for  a  long  time.  Papa  and  I  had  been  alone. 
Then  one  day  I  saw  them  carrying  her  up-stairs — my 
father  and  two  nurses — I  ran  out  before  my  nurse  could 
catch  me — and  saw  her — she  was  in  her  hat  and  cloak. 
I  didn't  know  her,  and  when  she  called  me,  I  ran  away. 
Then  afterward  they  took  me  in  to  see  her  in  bed — two 
or  three  times — and  I  remember  once" — Diana  began  to 
sob  herself — "  seeing  her  cry.  She  lay  sobbing — and  my 
father  beside  her;  he  held  her  hand — and  I  saw  him  hide 
his  eyes  upon  it.  They  never  noticed  me;  I  don't  know 
that  they  saw  me.  Then  they  told  me  she  was  dead — I 
saw  her  lying  on  the  bed — and  my  nurse  gave  me  some 
flowers  to  put  beside  her — some  violets.  They  were  the 
only  flowers.  I  can  see  her  still,  lying  there — with  her 
hands  closed  over  them." 

She  released  herself  from  Marsham,  and,  with  her  hand 
in  his,  she  drew  him  slowly  along  the  path,  while  she 
went  on  speaking,  with  an  effort  indeed,  yet  with  a 
marvellous  sense  of  deliverance  —  after  the  silence  of 
years.  She  described  the  entire  seclusion  of  their  life  at 
Portofino. 

"  Papa  never  spoke  to  me  of  mamma,  and  I  never 
208 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

remember  a.  picture  of  her.  After  his  death  I  saw  a 
closed  locket  on  his  breast  for  the  first  time.  I  would 
not  have  opened  it  for  the  world — I  just  kissed  it — " 
Her  voice  broke  again;  but  after  a  moment  she  quietly 
resumed.  "  He  changed  his  name — I  think — when  I  was 
about  nine  years  old.  I  remember  that  somehow  it 
seemed  to  give  him  comfort — he  was  more  cheerful  with 
tne  afterward — " 

"And  you  have  no  idea  what  led  him  to  go  abroad?" 

She  shook  her  head.  Marsham's  changed  and  rapid 
tone  had  betrayed  some  agitation  in  the  mind  behind ;  but 
Diana  did  not  notice  it.  In  her  story  she  had  come  to 
what,  in  truth,  had  been  the  determining  and  formative 
influence  on  her  own  life — her  father's  melancholy,  and 
the  mystery  in  which  it  had  been  enwrapped;  and  even 
the  perceptions  of  love  were  for  the  moment  blinded  as 
the  old  tyrannous  grief  overshadowed  her. 

"  His  life" — she  said,  slowly — "  seemed  for  years — one 
long  struggle  to  bear  —  what  was  really  —  unbearable. 
Then  when  I  was  about  nineteen  there  was  a  change. 
He  no  longer  shunned  people  quite  in  the  same  way,  and 
he  took  me  to  Egypt  and  India.  We  came  across  old 
friends  of  his  whom  I,  of  course,  had  never  seen  before; 
and  I  used  to  wonder  at  the  way  in  which  they  treated 
him — with  a  kind  of  reverence — as  though  they  would 
not  have  touched  him  roughly  for  the  world.  Then 
directly  after  we  got  home  to  the  Riviera  his  illness 
began-1-" 

She  dwelt  on  the  long  days  of  dumbness,  and  her  con- 
stant sense  that  he  wished — in  vain — to  communicate 
something  to  her. 

"  He  wanted  something — and  I  could  not  give  it  him — 
could  not  even  tell  what  it  was.  It  was  misery!  One 

209 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Malloiy 

day  he  managed  to  write:  '  If  you  are  in  trouble,  go  to 
Riley  &  Bonner — ask  them.'  They  were  his  solicitors, 
whom  he  had  depended  on  from  his  boyhood.  But  since 
his  death  I  have  never  wanted  anything  from  them  but 
a  little  help  in  business.  They  have  been  very  good; 
but — I  could  not  go  and  question  them.  If  there  was 
anything  to  know — papa  had  not  been  able  to  tell  me 
—I  did  not  want  anybody  else — to — " 

Her  voice  dropped.  Only  half  an  hour  since  the 
flowering  of  life!  What  a  change  in  both!  She  was 
pacing  along  slowly,  her  head  thrown  back;  the  oval  of 
her  face  white  among  her  furs,  under  the  ghostly  touch 
of  the  moonlight;  a  suggestion  of  something  austere — 
finely  remote — in  her  attitude  and  movement.  His  eyes 
were  on  the  ground,  his  shoulders  bent;  she  could  not 
see  his  face. 

"We  must  try  and  unravel  it — together,"  he  said, 
at  last,  with  an  effort.  "  Can  you  tell  me  your  mother's 
name?" 

"  It  was  an  old  Staffordshire  family.  But  she  and 
papa  met  in  America,  and  they  married  there.  Her 
father  died  not  long  afterward,  I  think.  And  I  have 
never  heard  of  any  relations  but  the  one  sister,  Mrs. 
Merton.  Her  name  was  Wentworth.  Oh!"  It  was  an 
involuntary  cry  of  physical  pain. 

"Diana! — Did  I  hurt  your  hand?  my  darling!" 

The  sudden  tightness  of  his  grip  had  crushed  her 
fingers.  She  smiled  at  him,  as  he  kissed  them,  in  hasty 
remorse. 

"And  her  Christian  name?"  he  asked,  in  a  low  voice. 

"Juliet." 

There  was  a  pause.  They  had  turned  back,  and  were 
walking  toward  the  house.  The  air  had  grown  much 

3io 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

colder;  frosty  stars  were  twinkling,  and  a  chilly  wind 
was  blowing  light  clouds  across  the  moon.  The  two 
figures  moved  slowly  in  and  out  of  the  bands  of  light 
and  shadow  which  crossed  the  avenue. 

Diana  stopped  suddenly. 

"  If  there  were  something  terrible  to  know  3' — she  said, 
trembling — "  something  which  would  make  you  ashamed 
of  me! — " 

Her  tall  slenderness  bent  toward  him — she  held  out 
her  hands  piteously.  Marsham's  manhood  asserted  it- 
self. He  encircled  her  again  with  his  strong  arm,  and 
she  hid  her  face  against  him.  The  contact  of  her  soft  . 
body,  her  fresh  cheek,  intoxicated  him  afresh.  In  the 
strength  of  his  desire  for  her,  it  was  as  though  he  were 
fighting  off  black  vultures  of  the  night,  forces  of  horror 
that  threatened  them  both.  He  would  not  believe  what 
yet  he  already  knew  to  be  true.  The  thought  of  his 
mother  clamored  at  the  door  of  his  mind,  and  he  would  f 
not  open  to  it.  In  a  reckless  defiance  of  what  had  over- 
taken him,  he  poured  out  tender  and  passionate  speech 
which  gradually  stilled  the  girl's  tumult  of  memory  and 
foreboding,  and  brought  back  the  heaven  of  their  first 
moment  on  the  hill-side.  Her  own  reserve  broke  down, 
and  from  her  murmured  words,  her  sweetness,  her  in- 
finite gratitude,  Marsham  might  divine  still  more  fully 
the  richness  of  that  harvest  which  such  a  nature  promised 
to  a  lover. 

"I  won't  tell  any  one — but  Muriel — till  you  have 
seen  Lady  Lucy,"  said  Diana,  as  they  approached 
the  house,  and  found  Marsham's  horse  waiting  at  the 
door. 

He  acquiesced,  and  it  was  arranged  that  he  should 

211 


The   Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

go  up  to  town  the  following  day,  Sunday — see  Lady 
Lucy — and  return  on  the  Monday. 

Then  he  rode  away,  waving  his  hand  through  the 
darkness. 

Marsham's  horse  carried  him  swiftly  through  country 
roads,  where  the  moon  made  magic,  and  peace  reigned. 
But  the  mind  of  the  rider  groped  in  confusion  and  de- 
spair, seeing  no  way  out. 

Only  one  definite  purpose  gathered  strength — to  throw 
himself  on  the  counsel  of  Sir  James  Chide.  Chide  had 
known — from  the  beginning! 


CHAPTER  X 

MARSHAM  reached  Felton  Hall  about  six  o'clock. 
The  house,  a  large  Georgian  erection,  belonging  to 
pleasant  easy-going  people  with  many  friends,  was  full 
of  guests,  and  the  thought  of  the  large  party  which  he 
must  face  at  dinner  and  in  the  evening  had  been  an  addi- 
tional weight  in  his  burden  during  the  long  ride  home. 

No  means  of  escaping  it,  or  the  gossip  with  regard 
to  himself,  which  must,  he  knew,  be  raging  among  the 
guests! 

That  gossip  had  not  troubled  him  when  he  had  set 
forth  in  the  early  afternoon.  Quite  the  contrary.  It 
had  amused  him  as  he  rode  to  Beechcote,  full  of  con- 
fident hope,  to  think  of  announcing  his  engagement. 
What  reason  would  there  be  for  delay  or  concealment? 
He  looked  forward  to  the  congratulations  of  old  friends ; 
the  more  the  better. 

The  antithesis  between  "  then"  and  "  now"  struck  him 
sharply,  as  he  dismounted.  But  for  that  last  quarter  of 
an  hour  with  Diana,  how  jubilantly  would  he  have  en- 
tered the  house!  Ten  minutes  with  Lady  Felton  —  a 
dear,  chattering  woman!  —  and  all  would  have  been 
known.  He  pictured  instinctively  the  joyous  flutter  in 
the  house — the  merry  dinner — perhaps  the  toasts. 

As  it  was,  he  slipped  quietly  into  the  house,  hoping 
that  his  return  might  pass  unnoticed.  He  was  thankful 
to  find  no  one  about — the  hall  and  drawing-room  desert- 

213 


The   Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

ed.  The  women  had  gone  up  to  rest  before  dinner; 
the  men  had  not  long  before  come  back  muddy  from 
hunting,  and  were  changing  clothes. 

Where  was  Sir  James  Chide  ? 

He  looked  into  the  smoking-room.  A  solitary  figure 
was  sitting  by  the  fire.  Sir  James  had  a  new  novel 
beside  him;  but  he  was  not  reading,  and  his  cigar  lay 
half  smoked  on  the  ash-tray  beside  him. 

He  was  gazing  into  the  blaze,  his  head  on  his  hand, 
and  his  quick  start  and  turn  as  the  door  of  the  smoking- 
room  opened  showed  him  to  be  not  merely  thoughtful 
but  expectant. 

He  sprang  up. 

"Is  that  you,  Oliver?" 

He  came  forward  eagerly.  He  had  known  Marsham 
from  a  child,  had  watched  his  career,  and  formed  a  very 
shrewd  opinion  of  his  character.  But  how  this  supreme 
moment  would  turn — if,  indeed,  the  supreme  moment  had 
arrived — Sir  James  had  no  idea. 

Marsham  closed  the  door  behind  him,  and  in  the 
lamplight  the  two  men  looked  at  each  other.  Marsham's 
brow  was  furrowed,  his  cheeks  pale.  His  eyes,  restless 
and  bright,  interrogated  his  old  friend.  At  the  first 
glance  Sir  James  understood.  He  thrust  his  hands  into 
his  pockets. 

"You  know?"  he  said,  under  his  breath. 

Marsham  nodded. 

"  And  you — have  known  it  all  along?" 

"  From  the  first  moment,  almost,  that  I  set  eyes  on  that 
poor  child.  Does  she  know  ?  Have  you  broken  it  to  her  ?' ' 

The  questions  hurried  on  each  other's  heels.  Mar- 
sham  shook  his  head,  and  Sir  James,  turning  away,  made 
a  sound  that  was  almost  a  groan. 

214 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

"You  have  proposed  to  her?" 

"Yes." 

"And  she  has  accepted  you?" 

"Yes."  Marsham  walked  to  the  mantel-piece,  and 
hung  over  the  fire. 

Sir  James  watched  him  for  a  moment,  twisting  his 
mouth.  Then  he  walked  up  to  his  companion  and  laid 
a  hand  on  his  arm. 

"Stick  it  out,  Oliver!"  he  said,  breathing  quick. 
"  vStick  it  out !  You'll  have  to  fight— but  she's  worth  it." 

Marsham's  hand  groped  for  his.  Sir  James  pressed 
it,  and  walked  away  again,  his  eyes  on  the  carpet.  When 
he  came  back,  he  said,  shortly: 

"  You  know  your  mother  will  resist  it  to  the  last  ?" 

By  this,  Marsham  had  collected  his  forces,  and  as  he 
turned  to  the  lamplight,  Sir  James  saw  a  countenance 
that  reassured  him. 

"  I  have  no  hope  of  persuading  her.  It  will  have  to 
be  faced." 

"  No,  I  fear  there  is  no  hope.  She  sees  all  such  things 
in  a  false  light.  Forgive  me — we  must  both  speak  plain- 
ly. She  will  shudder  at  the  bare  idea  of  Juliet  Sparling's 
daughter  as  your  wife;  she  will  think  it  means  a  serious 
injury  to  your  career — in  reality  it  does  nothing  of  the 
sort — and  she  will  regard  it  as  her  duty  to  assert  herself." 

"  You  and  Ferrier  must  do  all  you  can  for  me,"  said 
Marsham,  slowly. 

"  We  shall  do  everything  we  can,  but  I  do  not  flatter 
myself  it  will  be  of  the  smallest  use.  And  supposing  we 
make  no  impression — what  then?" 

Marsham  paused  a  moment ;  then  looked  up. 

"  You  know  the  terms  of  my  father's  will  ?  I  am  ab- 
solutely dependent  on  my  mother.  The  allowance  she 

215 


The   Testing   of    Diana    Mallory 

makes  me  at  present  is  quite  inadequate  for  a  man  in 
Parliament,  and  she  could  stop  it  to-morrow." 

"  You  might  have  to  give  up  Parliament?" 

"  I  should  very  likely  have  to  give  up  Parliament." 

Sir  James  ruminated,  and  took  up  his  half-smoked 
cigar  for  counsel. 

"  I  can't  imagine,  Oliver,  that  your  mother  would  push 
her  opposition  to  quite  that  point.  But,  in  any  case,  you 
have  forgotten  Miss  Mallory's  own  fortune." 

"It  has  never  entered  into  my  thoughts!"  cried  Mar- 
sham,  with  an  emphasis  which  Sir  James  knew  to  be 
honest.  "  But,  in  any  case,  I  cannot  live  upon  my  wife. 
If  I  could  not  find  something  to  do,  I  should  certainly 
give  up  politics." 

His  tone  had  become  a  little  dry  and  bitter,  his  aspect 
gray. 

Sir  James  surveyed  him  a  moment — pondering. 

"You  will  find  plenty  of  ways  out,  Oliver — plenty! 
The  sympathy  of  all  the  world  will  be  with  you.  You 
have  won  a  beautiful  and  noble  creature.  She  has  been 
brought  up  under  a  more  than  Greek  fate.  You  will 
rescue  her  from  it.  You  will  show  her  how  to  face  it — 
and  how  to  conquer  it." 

A  tremor  swept  across  Marsham's  handsome  mouth. 
But  the  perplexity  and  depression  in  the  face  remained. 

Sir  James  had  a  slight  consciousness  of  rebuff.  But 
it  disappeared  in  his  own  emotion.  He  resumed: 

"  She  ought  to  be  told  the  story — perhaps  with  some 
omissions — at  once.  Her  mother" — he  spoke  with  a 
slow  precision,  forcing  out  the  words — "was  not  a  bad 
woman.  If  you  like,  I  will  break  it  to  Miss  Mallory.  I 
am  probably  more  intimately  acquainted  with  the  story 
than  any  one  else  now  living." 

216 


The   Testing    of   Diana   Mallorg 

Something  in  the  tone,  in  the  solemnity  of  the  blue 
eyes,  in  the  carriage  of  the  gray  head,  touched  Marsham 
to  the  quick.  He  laid  a  hand  on  his  old  friend's  shoulder 
— affectionately — in  mute  thanks. 

"  Diana  mentioned  her  father's  solicitors — " 

"  I  know" — interrupted  Sir  James — "  Riley  &  Bonner 
— excellent  fellows — both  of  them  still  living.  They 
probably  have  all  the  records.  And  I  shouldn't  wonder 
if  they  have  a  letter — from  Sparling.  He  must  have 
made  provision — for  the  occasion  that  has  now  arisen." 

"A  letter?— for  Diana?" 

Sir  James  nodded.  "  His  behavior  to  her  was  a  piece 
of  moral  cowardice,  I  suppose.  I  saw  a  good  deal  of 
him  during  the  trial,  of  course,  though  it  is  years  now 
since  I  lost  all  trace  of  him.  He  was  a  sensitive,  shy 
fellow,  wrapped  up  in  his  archaeology,  and  very  ignorant 
of  the  world — when  it  all  happened.  It  tore  him  up  by 
the  roots.  His  life  withered  in  a  day." 

Marsham  flushed. 

"He  had  no  right  to  bring  her  up  in  this  complete 
ignorance!      He  could  not  have  done  anything  more 
cruel! — more  fatal!     No  one  knows  what  the  effect  may  / 
be  upon  her." 

And  with  a  sudden  rush  of  passion  through  the  blood, 
he  seemed  to  hold  her  once  more  in  his  arms,  he  felt 
the  warmth  of  her  cheek  on  his;  all  her  fresh  and  fragrant 
youth  was  present  to  him,  the  love  in  her  voice,  and  in 
her  proud  eyes.  He  turned  away,  threw  himself  into 
a  chair,  and  buried  his  face  in  his  hands. 

Sir  James  looked  down  upon  him.  Instead  of  sym- 
pathy, there  was  a  positive  lightening  in  the  elder  man's 
face — a  gleam  of  satisfaction. 

"  Cheer  up,  old  fellow!"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice.  "  You'll 

is  217 


The  Testing   of   Diana   Mallorg 

bring  her  through.  You  stand  by  her,  and  you'll  reap 
your  reward.  By  Gad,  there  are  many  men  who  would 
envy  you  the  chance!" 

Marsham  made  no  reply.  Was  it  his  silence  that 
evoked  in  the  mind  of  Sir  James  the  figure  which  already 
held  the  mind  of  his  companion? — the  figure  of  Lady 
Lucy?  He  paced  up  and  down,  with  the  image  before 
him — the  spare  form,  resolutely  erect,  the  delicate  resolu- 
tion of  the  face,  the  prim  perfection  of  the  dress,  judged 
by  the  Quakerish  standard  of  its  owner.  Lady  Lucy 
almost  always  wore  gloves  —  white  or  gray.  In  Sir 
James's  mind  the  remembrance  of  them  took  a  symbolic 
importance.  What  use  in  expecting  the  wearer  of  them 
to  handle  the  blood  and  mire  of  Juliet  Sparling's  story 
with  breadth  and  pity? 

"  Look  here!"  he  said,  coming  to  a  sudden  stop.  "  Let 
us  decide  at  once  on  what  is  to  be  done.  You  said  noth- 
ing to  Miss  Mallory?" 

"Nothing.  But  she  is  already  in  some  trouble  and 
misgiving  about  the  past.  She  is  in  the  mood  to  inquire ; 
she  has  been,  I  think,  for  some  time.  And,  naturally,  she 
wishes  to  hide  nothing  from  me." 

"  She  will  write  to  Riley  &  Bonner,"  said  Sir  James, 
quietly.  "  She  will  probably  write  to-night.  They  may 
take  steps  to  acquaint  her  with  her  history — or  they  may 
not.  It  depends.  Meanwhile,  who  else  is  likely  to  know 
anything  about  the  engagement?" 

"Diana  was  to  tell  Mrs.  Colwood — her  companion; 
no  one  else." 

"Nice  little  woman!  —  all  right  there!  But" — Sir 
James  gave  a  slight  start — "what  about  the  cousin?" 

"Miss  Merton?  Oh  no!  There  is  clearly  no  sym- 
pathy between  her  and  Diana.  How  could  there  be?" 

218 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

"Yes — but  my  dear  fellow! — that  girl  knows — must 
know — everything  there  is  to  know!  And  she  dislikes 
Diana;  she  is  jealous  of  her;  that  I  saw  quite  plainly  this 
afternoon.  And,  moreover,  she  is  probably  quite  well 
informed  about  you  and  your  intentions.  She  gossiped 
half  through  lunch  with  that  ill-bred  fellow  Birch.  I 
heard  your  name  once  or  twice.  Oh !  —  and  by-the- 
way!" — Sir  James  turned  sharply  on  his  heel — "what 
was  she  confabulating  about  with  Miss  Drake  all  that 
time  in  the  garden  ?  Did  they  know  each  other  before  ?" 

Marsham  replied  in  the  negative.  But  he,  too,  was 
disagreeably  arrested  by  the  recollection  of  the  two  girls 
walking  together,  and  of  the  intimacy  and  animation  of 
their  talk.  And  he  could  recall  what  Sir  James  had  not 
seen — the  strangeness  of  Alicia's  manner,  and  the  per- 
emptoriness  with  which  she  had  endeavored  to  carry  him 
home  with  her.  Had  she — after  hearing  the  story — 
tried  to  interrupt  or  postpone  the  crucial  scene  with 
Diana  ?  That  seemed  to  him  the  probable  explanation, 
and  the  idea  roused  in  him  a  hot  and  impotent  anger. 
What  business  was  it  of  hers  ? 

"  H'm!"  said  Sir  James.  "  You  may  be  sure  that  Miss 
Drake  is  now  in  the  secret.  She  was  very  discreet  on 
the  way  home.  But  she  will  take  sides;  and  not,  I  think, 
with  us.  She  seems  to  have  a  good  deal  of  influence  with 
your  mother." 

Marsham  reluctantly  admitted  it. 

"My  sister,  too,  will  be  hostile.  Don't  let's  forget 
that." 

Sir  James  shrugged  his  .shoulders,  with  the  smile  of 
one  who  is  determined  to  keep  his  spirits  up. 

"  Well,  my  dear  Marsham,  you  have  your  battle  cut 
out  for  you!  Don't  delay  it.  Where  is  Lady  Lucy  ?" 

219 


The  Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

"In  town." 

"  Can't  you  devise  some  excuse  that  will  take  you  back 
to  her  early  to-morrow  morning?" 

Marsham  thought  over  it.  Easy  enough,  if  only  the 
engagement  were  announced!  But  both  agreed  that 
silence  was  imperative.  Whatever  chance  there  might 
be  with  Lady  Lucy  would  be  entirely  destroyed  were  the 
matter  made  public  before  her  son  had  consulted  her. 

"Everybody  here  is  on  the  tiptoe  of  expectation," 
said  Sir  James.  "  But  that  you  know;  you  must  face  it 
somehow.  Invent  a  letter  from  Ferrier — some  party 
contretemps — anything! — I'll  help  you  through.  And  if 
you  see  your  mother  in  the  morning,  I  will  turn  up  in 
the  afternoon." 

The  two  men  paused.  They  were  standing  together 
— in  conference ;  but  each  was  conscious  of  a  background 
of  hurrying  thoughts  that  had  so  far  been  hardly  ex- 
pressed at  all. 

Marsham  suddenly  broke  out: 

"Sir  James! — I  know  you  thought  there  were  excuses 

I— almost  justification — for  what  that  poor  creature  did. 
I  was  a  boy  of  fifteen  at  the  time  you  made  your  famous 
speech,  and  I  only  know  it  by  report.  You  spoke,  of 
course,  as  an  advocate — but  I  have  heard  it  said — that 
you  expressed  your  own  personal  belief.  Wherever  the 
case  is  discussed,  there  are  still — as  you  know — two 
opinions — one  more  merciful  than  the  other.  If  the 
line  you  took  was  not  merely  professional;  if  you  per- 
sonally believed  your  own  case;  can  you  give  me  some 
of  the  arguments — you  were  probably  unable  to  state 
them  all  in  court — that  convinced  you?  Let  me  have 
something  wherewith  to  meet  my  mother.  She  won't 
look  at  this  altogether  from  the  worldly  point  of  view, 

220 


The   Testing    o*   Diana    Mallory 

She  will  have  a  standard  of  her  own.  Merely  to  belittle 
the  thing,  as  long  past  and  forgotten,  won't  help  me. 
But  if  I  could  awaken  her  pity! — if  you  could  give  me 
the  wherewithal — " 

Sir  James  turned  away.  He  walked  to  the  window 
and  stood  there  a  minute,  his  face  invisible.  When  he 
returned,  his  pallor  betrayed  what  his  steady  and  digni- 
fied composure  would  otherwise  have  concealed. 

"  I  can  tell  you  what  Mrs.  Sparling  told  me — in  prison 
— with  the  accents  of  a  dying  woman — what  I  believed 
then — what  I  believe  now. — Moreover,  I  have  some  com- 
paratively recent  confirmation  of  this  belief. — But  this 
is  too  public!" — he  looked  round  the  library — "  we  might 
be  disturbed.  Come  to  my  room  to-night.  I  shall  go 
up  early,  on  the  plea  of  letters.  I  always  carry  with  me 
— certain  documents.  For  her  child's  sake,  I  will  show 
them  to  you." 

At  the  last  words  the  voice  of  the  speaker,  rich  in 
every  tender  and  tragic  note,  no  less  than  in  those  of 
irony  or  invective,  wavered  for  the  first  time.  He  stooped 
abruptly,  took  up  the  book  he  had  been  reading,  and  left 
the  room. 

Marsham,  too,  went  up-stairs.  As  he  passed  along 
the  main  corridor  to  his  room,  lost  in  perplexity  and 
foreboding,  he  heard  the  sound  of  a  woman's  dress, 
and,  looking  up,  saw  Alicia  Drake  coming  toward 
him. 

She  started  at  sight  of  him,  and  under  the  bright 
electric  light  of  the  passage  he  saw  her  redden. 

"Well,  Oliver! — you  stayed  a  good  while." 

"  Not  so  very  long.  I  have  been  home  nearly  an  hour. 
I  hope  the  horses  went  well!" 

"Excellently.     Do  you  know  where  Sir  James  is?" 

221 


The   Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

It  seemed  to  him  the  question  was  significantly  asked. 
He  gave  it  a  cold  answer. 

"  Not  at  this  moment.  He  was  in  the  smoking-room 
a  little  while  ago." 

He  passed  her  abruptly.  Alicia  Drake  pursued  her 
way  to  the  hall.  She  was  carrying  some  letters  to  the 
post-box  near  the  front  door.  When  she  arrived  there 
she  dropped  two  of  them  in  at  once,  and  held  the  other 
a  moment  in  her  hand,  looking  at  it.  It  was  addressed 
to  "Mrs.  Fotheringham,  Manningham  House,  Leeds." 

Meanwhile,  Diana  herself  was  wrestling  with  her  own 
fate. 

When  Marsham  rode  away  from  her,  and  she  had 
watched  his  tall  figure  disappear  into  the  dusk,  she  turned 
back  toward  the  house,  and  saw  it  and  the  world  round 
it  with  new  eyes.  The  moon  shone  on  the  old  front, 
mellowing  it  to  a  brownish  ivory;  the  shadows  of  the 
trees  lay  clear  on  the  whitened  grass ;  and  in  the  luminous 
air  colors  of  sunrise  and  of  moonrise  blended,  tints  of 
pearl,  of  gold,  and  purple.  A  consecrating  beauty  lay  on 
all  visible  things,  and  spoke  to  the  girl's  tender  and  pas- 
sionate heart.  In  the  shadow  of  the  trees  she  stood  a 
moment,  her  hands  clasped  on  her  breast,  recalling  Mar- 
sham's  words  of  love  and  comfort,  resting  on  him,  reach- 
ing out  through  him  to  the  Power  behind  the  world, 
which  spoke  surely  through  this  loveliness  of  the  night, 
this  joy  in  the  soul! 

And  yet,  her  mood,  her  outlook — like  Marsham's — 
was  no  longer  what  it  had  been  on  the  hill-side.  No 
ugly  light  of  revelation  had  broken  upon  her,  as  upon 
him.  But  the  conversation  in  the  lime-walk  had  sobered 
the  first  young  exaltation  of  love ;  it  had  somehow  divided 

222 


The    Testing    oil   Diana    Mallory 

them  from  the  happy  lovers  of  every  day;  it  had  also 
divided  them — she  hardly  knew  how  or  why — from  that 
moment  on  the  hill  when  Oliver  had  spoken  of  imme- 
diate announcement  and  immediate  marriage.  Nothing 
was  to  be  said — except  to  Muriel — till  Lady  Lucy  knew. 
She  was  glad.  It  made  her  bliss,  in  this  intervening  mo- 
ment, more  fully  her  own.  She  thought  with  yearning  of 
Oliver's  interview  with  his  mother.  A  filial,  though  a 
trembling  love  sprang  up  in  her.  And  the  sense  of  having 
come  to  shelter  and  to  haven  seemed  to  give  her  strength 
for  what  she  had  never  yet  dared  to  face.  The  past  was 
now  to  be  probed,  interrogated.  She  was  firmly  resolved 
to  write  to  Riley  &  Bonner,  to  examine  any  papers  there 
might  be ;  not  because  she  was  afraid  that  anything  might 
come  between  her  and  Oliver;  rather  because  now,  with 
his  love  to  support  her,  she  could  bear  whatever  there 
might  be  to  bear. 

She  stepped  into  the  house.  Some  one  was  strumming 
in  the  drawing-room — with  intervals  between  the  strum- 
mings — as  though  the  player  stopped  to  listen  for  some- 
thing or  some  one.  Diana  shrank  into  herself.  She  ran 
tip-stairs  noiselessly  to  her  sitting-room,  and  opened  the 
door  as  quietly  as  possible. 

"Muriel!" 

The  voice  was  almost  a  whisper.  Mrs.  Colwood  did 
not  hear  it.  She  was  bending  over  the  fire,  with  her  back 
to  the  door,  and  a  reading-lamp  beside  her.  To  her 
amazement,  Diana  heard  a  sob,  a  sound  of  stifled  grief, 
which  struck  a  sudden  chill  through  her  own  excitement. 
She  paused  a  moment,  and  repeated  her  friend's  name. 
Mrs.  Colwood  started.  She  hastily  rose,  turning  her  face 
from  Diana. 

"  Is  that  you?     I  thought  you  were  still  out." 

223 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

Diana  crossed  the  floor,  and  put  her  arm  round  the 
little  gentle  woman,  whose  breath  was  still  shaken  by  the 
quiet  sobs  she  was  trying  desperately  to  repress. 

"Muriel,  dear! — what  is  it?" 

Mrs.  Colwood  found  her  voice,  and  her  composure. 

"Nothing!     I  was  foolish — it  doesn't  matter." 

Diana  was  sure  she  understood.  She  was  suddenly 
ashamed  to  bring  her  own  happiness  into  this  desolate 
and  widowed  presence,  and  the  kisses  with  which,  mute- 
ly, she  tried  to  comfort  her  friend,  were  almost  a  plea  to 
be  forgiven. 

But  Muriel  drew  herself  away.  She  looked  search- 
ingly,  with  recovered  self-command,  into  Diana's  face. 

"Has  Mr.  Marsham  gone?" 

"Yes,"  said  Diana,  looking  at  her. 

Then  the  smile  within  broke  out,  flooding  eyes  and 
lips.  Under  the  influence  of  it,  Mrs.  Colwood' s  small 
tear  -  stained  face  passed  through  a  quick  instinctive 
change.  She,  too,  smiled  as  though  she  could  not  help  it; 
then  she  bent  forward  and  kissed  Diana. 

"Is  it  all  right?" 

The  peculiar  eagerness  in  the  tone  struck  Diana.  She 
returned  the  kiss,  a  little  wistfully. 

"  Were  you  so  anxious  about  me  ?  Wasn't  it — rather 
plain?" 

Mrs.  Colwood  laughed. 

"  Sit  down  there,  and  tell  me  all  about  it." 

She  pushed  Diana  into  a  chair  and  sat  down  at  her 
feet.  Diana,  with  some  difficulty,  her  hand  over  her 
eyes,  told  all  that  could  be  told  of  a  moment  the  heart  of 
which  no  true  lover  betrays.  Muriel  Colwood  listened 
with  her  face  against  the  girl's  dress,  sometimes  pressing 
her  lips  to  the  hand  beside  her. 

224 


The    Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

"  Is  he  going  to  see  Lady  Lucy  to-morrow  ?"  she  asked, 
when  Diana  paused. 

"  Yes.     He  goes  up  by  the  first  train." 

Both  were  silent  awhile.  Diana,  in  the  midst  of  all 
the  natural  flutter  of  blood  and  pulse,  was  conscious  of  a 
strong  yearning  to  tell  her  friend  more — to  say :  "  And 
he  has  brought  me  comfort  and  courage — as  well  as  love ! 
I  shall  dare  now  to  look  into  the  past — to  take  up  my 
father's  burden.  If  it  hurts,  Oliver  will  help  me." 

But  she  had  been  brought  up  in  a  school  of  reticence, 
and  her  loyalty  to  her  father  and  mother  sealed  her  lips. 
That  anxiety,  that  burden,  nobody  must  share  with  her 
but  Oliver — and  perhaps  his  mother ;  his  mother,  so  soon 
to  be  hers. 

Muriel  Colwood,  watching  her  face,  could  hardly  re- 
strain herself.  But  the  moment  for  which  her  whole 
being  was  waiting  in  a  tension  scarcely  to  be  borne  had 
not  yet  come.  She  chastened  and  rebuked  her  own 
dread. 

They  talked  a  little  of  the  future.  Diana,  in  a  blessed 
fatigue,  threw  herself  back  in  her  chair,  and  chattered 
softly,  listening  now  and  then  for  the  sounds  of  the 
piano  in  the  room  below,  and  evidently  relieved  when- 
ever, after  a  silence,  fresh  fragments  from  some  comic 
opera  of  the  day,  much  belied  in  the  playing,  penetrated 
to  the  upper  floor.  Meanwhile,  neither  of  them  spoke  of 
Fanny  Merton.  Diana,  with  a  laugh,  repeated  Mar- 
sham's  proposal  for  a  six  weeks'  engagement.  That  was 
absurd!  But,  after  all,  it  could  not  be  very  long.  She 
hoped  Oliver  would  be  content  to  keep  Beechcote.  They 
could,  of  course,  always  spend  a  good  deal  of  time  with 
Lady  Lucy. 

And  in  mentioning  that  name  she  showed  not  the 

225 


The   Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

smallest  misgiving,  not  a  trace  of  uneasiness,  while 
every  time  it  was  uttered  it  pricked  the  shrinking  sense 
of  her  companion.  Mrs.  Colwood  had  not  watched  and 
listened  during  her  Tallyn  visit  for  nothing. 

At  last  a  clock  struck  down-stairs,  and  a  door  opened. 
Diana  sprang  up. 

"Time  to  dress!  And  I've  left  Fanny  alone  all  this 
while!" 

She  hurried  toward  the  door;  then  turned  back. 

"Please! — I'm  not  going  to  tell  Fanny  just  yet. 
Neither  Fanny  nor  any  one — till  Lady  Lucy  knows. 
What  happened  after  we  went  away?  Was  Fanny 
amused?" 

"Very  much,  I  should  say." 

" She  made  friends  with  Miss  Drake?" 

"They  were  inseparable,  till  Miss  Drake  departed." 

Diana  laughed. 

"How  odd!  That  I  should  never  have  prophesied. 
And  Mr.  Birch?  I  needn't  have  him  to  lunch  again, 
need  I?" 

"Miss  Merton  invited  him  to  tea — on  Saturday." 

Diana  reddened. 

"Must  I — !"  she  said,  impetuously;  then  stopped  her- 
self, and  opened  the  door. 

^Outside,  Fanny  Merton  was  just  mounting  the  stairs, 
a  candle  in  her  hand.  She  stopped  in  astonishment  at 
the  sight  of  Diana. 

"Diana!  where  have  you  been  all  this  time?" 

"Only  talking  to  Muriel.  We  heard  you  playing; 
so  we  thought  you  weren't  dull,"  said  Diana,  rather 
penitently. 

"  I  was  only  playing  till  you  came  in,"  was  the  sharp 
reply.  "When  did  Mr.  Marsham  go?" 

226 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

Diana  by  this  time  was  crossing  the  landing  to  the 
door  of  her  room,  with  Fanny  behind  her. 

"Oh,  quite  an  hour  ago.  Hadn't  we  better  dress? 
Dinner  will  be  ready  directly." 

Fanny  took  no  notice.  She  entered  her  cousin's  room, 
in  Diana's  wake. 

"Well?"  she  said,  interrogatively.  She  leaned  her 
back  against  the  wardrobe,  and  folded  her  arms. 

Diana  turned.  She  met  Fanny's  black  eyes,  sparkling 
with  excitement. 

"  I'll  give  you  my  news  at  dinner,"  said  Diana,  flushing 
against  her  will.  "  And  I  want  to  know  how  you  liked 
Miss  Drake." 

Fanny's  eyes  shot  fire. 

"That's  all  very  fine!  That  means,  of  course,  that 
you're  not  going  to  tell  me  anything!" 

"Fanny!"  cried  Diana,  helplessly.  She  was  held 
spellbound  by  the  passion,  the  menace  in  the  girl's  look. 
But  the  touch  of  shrinking  in  her  attitude  roused  brutal 
Violence  in  Fanny. 

"Yes,  it  does!"  she  said,  fiercely.  "I  understand! — 
don't  I!  I  am  not  good  enough  for  you,  and  you'll 
make  me  feel  it.  You're  going  to  make  a  smart  marriage, 
and  you  won't  care  whether  you  ever  set  eyes  on  any  of 
us  again.  Oh!  I  know  you've  given  us  money — or  you 
say  you  will.  If  I  knew  which  side  my  bread  was  but- 
tered, I  suppose  I  should  hold  my  tongue. — But  when 
you  treat  me  like  the  dirt  under  your  feet — when  you  tell 
everything  to  that  woman  Mrs.  Colwood,  who's  no  rela- 
tion, and  nothing  in  the  world  to  you — and  leave  me 
kicking  my  heels  all  alone,  because  I'm  not  the  kind  you 
want,  and  you  wish  to  goodness  I'd  never  come — when 
you  show  as  plain  as  you  can  that  I'm  a  common  creat- 

227 


The  Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

ure — not  fit  to  pick  up  your  gloves! — I  tell  you  I  just 
won't  stand  it.  No  one  would  —  who  knew  what  I 
know!" 

The  last  words  were  flung  in  Diana's  teeth  with  all 
the  force  that  wounded  pride  and  envious  wrath  could 
give  them.  Diana  tottered  a  little.  Her  hand  clung  to 
the  dressing-table  behind  her. 

"What  do  you  know?"  she  said.  "Tell  me  at  once — 
what  you  mean." 

Fanny  contemptuously  shook  her  head.  She  walked 
to  the  door,  and  before  Diana  could  stop  her,  she  had 
rushed  across  to  her  own  room  and  locked  herself  in. 

There  she  walked  up  and  down  panting.  She  hardly 
understood  her  own  rage,  and  she  was  quite  conscious 
that,  for  her  own  interests,  she  had  acted  during  the 
whole  afternoon  like  a  fool.  First,  stung  by  the  pique 
excited  in  her  by  the  talk  of  the  luncheon-table,  she  had 
let  herself  be  exploited  and  explored  by  Alicia  Drake. 
She  had  not  meant  to  tell  her  secret,  but  somehow  she  had 
told  it,  simply  to  give  herself  importance  with  this  smart 
lady,  and  to  feel  her  power  over  Diana.  Then,  it  was  no 
sooner  told  than  she  was  quickly  conscious  that  she  had 
given  away  an  advantage,  which  from  a  tactical  point  of 
view  she  had  infinitely  better  have  kept;  and  that  the 
command  of  the  situation  might  have  passed  from  her  to 
this  girl  whom  Diana  had  supplanted.  Furious  with 
herself,  she  had  tried  to  swear  Miss  Drake  to  silence,  only 
to  be  politely  but  rather  scornfully  put  aside. 

Then  the  party  had  broken  up.  Mr.  Birch  had  been 
offended  by  the  absence  of  the  hostess,  and  had  vouch- 
safed but  a  careless  good-bye  to  Miss  Merton.  The  Rough- 
sedges  went  off  without  asking  her  to  visit  them;  and  as 
for  the  Captain,  he  was  an  odious  young  man.  Since 

228 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallorg 

their  departure,  Mrs.  Colwood  had  neglected  her,  and 
now  Diana's  secret  return,  her  long  talk  with  Mrs.  Col- 
wood,  had  filled  the  girl's  cup  of  bitterness.  She  had 
secured  that  day  a  thousand  pounds  for  her  family  and 
herself;  and  at  the  end  of  it,  she  merely  felt  that  the  day 
had  been  an  abject  and  intolerable  failure!  Did  the  fact 
that  she  so  felt  it  bear  strange  witness  to  the  truth  that 
at  the  bottom  of  her  anger  and  her  cruelty  there  was  a 
masked  and  distorted  something  which  was  not  wholly 
vile — which  was,  in  fact,  the  nature's  tribute  to  something 
nobler  than  itself  ?  That  Diana  shivered  at  and  repulsed 
her  was  the  hot-iron  that  burned  and  seared.  And  that 
she  richly  deserved  it — and  knew  it — made  its  smart  not 
a  whit  the  less. 

Fanny  did  not  appear  at  dinner.  Mrs.  Colwood  and 
Diana  dined  alone — Diana  very  white  and  silent.  After 
dinner,  Diana  began  slowly  to  climb  the  shallow  old  stair- 
case. Mrs.  Colwood  followed  her. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  she  said,  trying  to  hold  her 
back. 

Diana  looked  at  her.  In  the  girl's  eyes  there  was  a 
sudden  and  tragic  indignation. 

"Do  you  all  know?"  she  said,  under  her  breath — "all 
— all  of  you?"  And  again  she  began  to  mount,  with  a 
resolute  step. 

Mrs.  Colwood  dared  not  follow  her  any  farther.  Diana 
went  quickly  up  and  along  the  gallery;  she  knocked  at 
Fanny's  door.  After  a  moment  Mrs.  Colwood  heard  it 
opened,  and  a  parley  of  voices — Fanny's  short  and  sul- 
len, Diana's  very  low.  Then  the  door  closed,  and  Mrs. 
Colwood  knew  that  the  cousins  were  together. 

How  the  next  twenty  minutes  passed,  Mrs.  Colwood 

229 


The    Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

could  never  remember.  At  the  end  of  them  she  heard 
steps  slowly  coming  down  the  stairs,  and  a  cry — her  own 
name — not  in  Diana's  voice.  She  ran  out  into  the  hall. 

At  the  top  of  the  stairs,  stood  Fanny  Merton,  not 
daring  to  move  farther.  Her  eyes  were  starting  out  of 
her  head,  her  face  flushed  and  distorted. 

"You  go  to  her!"  She  stooped,  panting,  over  the 
balusters,  addressing  Mrs.  Colwood.  "She  won't  let 
me  touch  her." 

Diana  descended,  groping.  At  the  foot  of  the  stairs 
she  caught  at  Mrs.  Colwood' s  hand,  went  swaying  across 
the  hall  and  into  the  drawing-room.  There  she  closed 
the  door,  and  looked  into  Mrs.  Colwood's  eyes.  Muriel 
saw  a  face  in  which  bloom  and  first  youth  were  forever 
dead,  though  in  its  delicate  features  horror  was  still 
beautiful.  She  threw  her  arms  round  the  girl,  weeping. 
But  Diana  put  her  aside.  She  walked  to  a  chair,  and  sat 
down.  "  My  mother — "  she  said,  looking  up. 

Her  voice  dropped.  She  moistened  her  dry  lips,  and 
began  once  more:  "My  mother — " 

But  the  brain  could  maintain  its  flickering  strength  no 
longer.  There  was  a  low  cry  of  "Oliver!"  that  stabbed 
the  heart;  then,  suddenly,  her  limbs  were  loosened,  and 
she  sank  back,  unconscious,  out  of  her  friend's  grasp  and 
ken. 


CHAPTER  XI 

HER  ladyship  will  be  here  directly,  sir." 
Lady  Lucy's  immaculate  butler  opened  the  door 
of  her  drawing-room  in  Eaton  Square,  ushered  in  Sir 
James  Chide,  noiselessly  crossed  the  room  to  see  to  the 
firfej  and  then  as  noiselessly  withdrew. 

"  Impossible  that  any  one  should  be  as  respectable  as 
that  man  looks!"  thought  Sir  James,  impatiently.  He 
walked  forward  to  the  fire,  warmed  hands  and  feet  chilled 
by  a  nipping  east  wind,  and  then,  with  his  back  to  the 
warmth,  he  examined  the  room. 

It  was  very  characteristic  of  its  mistress.  At  Tallyn 
Henry  Marsham  had  worked  his  will;  here,  in  this  house 
taken  since  his  death,  it  was  the  will  and  taste  of  his 
widow  which  had  prevailed.  A  gray  paper  with  a  small 
gold  sprig  upon  it,  sofas  and  chairs  not  too  luxurious,  a 
Brussels  carpet,  dark  and  unobtrusive,  and  chintz  cur- 
tains; on  the  walls,  drawings  by  David  Cox,  Copley  Field- 
ing, and  De  Wint ;  a  few  books  with  Mudie  labels ;  costly 
photographs  of  friends  and  relations,  especially  of  the 
relations'  babies;  on  one  table,  and  under  a  glass  case,  a 
model  in  pith  of  Lincoln  Cathedral,  made  by  Lady  Lucy's 
uncle,  who  had  been  a  Canon  of  Lincoln;  on  another,  a 
set  of  fine  carved  chessmen;  such  was  the  furniture  of 
the  room.  It  expressed — and  with  emphasis — the  tastes 
and  likings  of  that  section  of  English  society  in  which, 
firmly  based  as  it  is  upon  an  ample  supply  of  all  material 

231 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

goods,  a.  seemly  and  intelligent  interest  in  things  ideal  and 
spiritual  is  also  to  be  found.  Everything  in  the  room 
was  in  its  place,  and  had  been  in  its  place  for  years. 
Sir  James  got  no  help  from  the  contemplation  of  it. 

The  door  opened,  and  Lady  Lucy  came  quietly  in. 
Sir  James  looked  at  her  sharply  as  they  shook  hands. 
She  had  more  color  than  usual;  but  the  result  was  to 
make  the  face  look  older,  and  certain  lines  in  it  dis- 
agreeably prominent.  Very  likely  she  had  been  crying. 
He  hoped  she  had. 

"  Oliver  told  you  to  expect  me  ?" 

She  assented.  Then,  still  standing,  she  looked  at  him 
steadily. 

"This  is  a  very  terrible  affair,  Sir  James." 

"  Yes.     It  must  have  been  a  great  shock  to  you." 
v  "  Oh !  that  does  not  matter,"  she  said,  impatiently.     "  I 
must  not  think  of  myself.     I  must  think  of  Oliver.     Will 
you  sit  down?" 

She  motioned  him,  in  her  stately  way,  to  a  seat.  He 
realized,  as  he  faced  her,  that  he  beheld  her  in  a  new 
aspect.  She  was  no  longer  the  gracious  and  smiling 
hostess,  as  her  familiar  friends  knew  her,  both  at  Tallyn 
and  in  London.  Her  manner  threw  a  sudden  light  on 
certain  features  in  her  history:  Marsham's  continued  de- 
pendence on  his  mother  and  inadequate  allowance,  the 
autocratic  ability  shown  in  the  management  of  the  Tallyn 
household  and  estates,  management  in  which  Marsham 
was  allowed  practically  no  share  at  all,  and  other  traits 
and  facts  long  known  to  him.  The  gentle,  scrupulous, 
composed  woman  of  every  day  had  vanished  in  some- 
thing far  more  vigorously  drawn ;  he  felt  himself  confront- 
ed by  a  personality  as  strong  as,  and  probably  more  stub- 
born than  his  own. 

232 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

Lady  Lucy  seated  herself.  She  quietly  arranged  the 
folds  of  her  black  satin  dress;  she  drew  forward  a  stool, 
and  rested  her  feet  upon  it.  Sir  James  watched  her, 
uncertain  how  to  begin.  But  she  saved  him  the  de- 
cision. 

"I  have  had  a  painful  interview  with  my  son  "  she 
said,  quietly.  "  It  could  not  be  otherwise,  and  I  can  only 
hope  that  in  a  little  while  he  will  do  me  justice.  Oliver 
will  join  us  presently.  And  now — first,  Sir  James,  let 
me  ask  you — you  really  believe  that  Miss  Mallory  has 
been  till  now  in  ignorance  of  her  mother's  history?" 

Sir  James  started. 

"Good  Heavens,  Lady  Lucy!  Can  you  —  do  you — 
suppose  anything  else?" 

Lady  Lucy  paused  before  replying. 

"  I  cannot  suppose  it — since  both  you  and  my  son — 
and  Mr.  Ferrier — have  so  high  an  opinion  of  her.  But  it 
is  a  strange  and  mysterious  thing  that  she  should  have 
remained  in  this  complete  ignorance  all  these  years — and 
a  cruel  thing,  of  course — to  everybody  concerned." 

Sir  James  nodded. 

"  I  agree.  It  was  a  cruel  thing,  though  it  was  done, 
no  doubt,  from  the  tenderest  motives.  The  suffering  was 
bound  to  be  not  less  but  more,  sooner  or  later." 

"  Miss  Mallory  is  very  greatly  to  be  pitied.  But  it  is, 
of  course,  clear  that  my  son  proposed  to  he/,  not  knowing 
what  it  was  essential  that  he  should  know." 

Sir  James  paused. 

"We  are  old  friends,  Lady  Lucy — you  and  I,"  he 
said  at  last,  with  deliberation;  and  as  he  spoke  he  bent 
forward  and  took  her  hand.  "  I  am  sure  you  will  let  me 
ask  you  a  few  questions." 

Lady  Lucy  made  no  reply.     Her  hand — without  any 

16  233 


The  Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

movement  of  withdrawal  or  rebuff — gently  dropped  from 
his. 

"You  have  been,  I  think,  much  attracted  by  Miss 
Mallory  herself?" 

"  Very  much  attracted.  Up  to  this  morning  I  thought 
that  she  would  make  an  excellent  wife  for  Oliver.  But 
I  have  been  acting,  of  course,  throughout  under  a  false 
impression." 

"Is  it  your  feeling  that  to  marry  her  would  injure 
Oliver's  career?" 

"Certainly.  But  that  is  not  what  weighs  with  me 
most  heavily." 

"  I  did  not  for  a  moment  believe  that  it  would.  How- 
ever, let  us  take  the  career  first.  This  is  how  I  look  at 
it.  If  the  marriage  went  forward,  there  would  no  doubt 
be  some  scandal  and  excitement  at  first,  when  the  truth 
was  known.  But  Oliver's  personality  and  the  girl's 
charm  would  soon  live  it  down.  In  this  strange  world 
I  am  not  at  all  sure  it  might  not  in  the  end  help  their 
future.  Oliver  would  be  thought  to  have  done  a  gener- 
ous and  romantic  thing,  and  his  wife's  goodness  and 
beauty  would  be  all  the  more  appreciated  for  the  back- 
ground of  tragedy." 

Lady  Lucy  moved  impatiently. 

"  Sir  James — I  am  a  plain  person,  with  plain  ideas. 
The  case  would  present  itself  to  me  very  differently ;  and 
I  believe  that  my  view  would  be  that  of  the  ordinary  man 
and  woman.  However,  I  repeat,  that  is  not  what  I  think 
of  first — by  any  means." 

"  You  think  of  the  criminal  taint  ? — the  risk  to  Oliver 
— and  to  Oliver's  children?" 

She  made  a  sign  of  assent. 

"Character — and  the  protection  of  character — is  not 
234 


The    Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

that  what  we  have  to  think  of— above  all— in  this  world 
of  temptation  ?  We  can  none  of  us  afford  to  throw  away 
the  ordinary  helps  and  safeguards.  How  can  I  possibly 
aid  and  abet  Oliver's  marriage  with  the  daughter  of  a 
woman  who  first  robbed  her  own  young  sister,  in  a 
peculiarly  mean  and  cruel  way,  and  then  committed  a 
deliberate  and  treacherous  murder?" 

"Wait  a  moment!"  exclaimed  Sir  James,  holding  up 
his  hand.  "  Those  adjectives,  believe  me,  are  unjust." 

"  I  know  that  you  think  so,"  was  the  animated  reply. 
"But  I  remember  the  case;  I  have  my  own  opinion." 

"  They  are  unjust,"  repeated  Sir  James,  with  emphasis. 
"  Then  it  is  really  the  horror  of  the  thing  itself — not  so 
much  its  possible  effect  on  social  position  and  opinion, 
which  decides  you?" 

"I  ask  myself — I  must  ask  myself,"  said  his  com- 
panion, with  equal  emphasis,  forcing  the  words :  "  can  I 
help  Oliver  to  marry  the  daughter — of  a  convicted  mur- 
deress— and  adulteress?" 

•'No!"  said  Sir  James,  holding  up  his  hand  again — 
"No!" 

Lady  Lucy  fell  back  in  her  chair.  Her  unwonted 
color  had  disappeared,  and  the  old  hand  lying  in  her 
lap — a  hand  thin  to  emaciation — shook  a  little. 

" Is  not  this  too  painful  for  us  both,  Sir  James? — can 
we  continue  it?  I  have  my  duty  to  think  of;  and  yet — 
I  cannot,  naturally,  speak  to  you  with  entire  frankness. 
Nor  can  I  possibly  regard  your  view  as  an  impartial  one. 
Forgive  me.  I  should  not  have  dreamed  of  referring  to 
the  matter  in  any  other  circumstances." 

"  Certainly,  I  am  not  impartial,"  said  Sir  James,  look- 
ing up.  "You  know  that,  of  course,  well  enough." 

He  spoke  in  a  strong  full  voice.     Lady  Lucy  encoun- 

235 


The  Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

tered  a.  singular  vivacity  in  the  gray  eyes,  as  though 
the  whole  power  of  the  man's  personality  backed  the 
words. 

"  Believe  me,"  she  said,  with  dignity,  and  not  without 
kindness,  "  it  is  not  I  who  would  revive  such  memories." 

Sir  James  nodded  quietly. 

"I  am  not  impartial;  but  I  am  well  informed.  It 
was  my  view  which  affected  the  judge,  and  ultimately  the 
Home  Office.  And  since  the  trial — in  quite  recent  years 
— I  have  received  a  strange  confirmation  of  it  which 
has  never  been  made  public.  Did  Oliver  report  this  to 
you?" 

"He  told  me  certain  facts,"  said  Lady  Lucy,  un- 
willingly ;  "  but  I  did  not  see  that  they  made  much  dif- 
ference." 

"Perhaps  he  did  not  give  them  the  right  emphasis," 
said  Sir  James,  calmly.  "  Will  you  allow  me  to  tell  you 
the  whole  story? — as  it  appears  to  me." 

Lady  Lucy  looked  distressed. 

"Is  it  worth  while,"  she  said,  earnestly,  "to  give 
yourself  so  much  pain  ?  I  cannot  imagine  that  it  could 
alter  the  view  I  take  of  my  duty." 

Sir  James  flushed,  and  sternly  straightened  himself. 
It  was  a  well-known  gesture,  and  ominous  to  many  a 
prisoner  in  the  dock. 

"Worth  while!"  he  said.  "Worth  while!  —  when 
your  son's  future  may  depend  on  the  judgment  you 
form." 

The  sharpness  of  his  tone  called  the  red  also  to  Lady 
Lucy's  cheek. 

"  Can  anything  that  may  be  said  now  alter  the  irrev- 
ocable?" she  asked,  in  protest. 

"  It  cannot  bring  the  dead  to  life ;  but  if  you  are  really 

236 


The   Testing   of    Diana    Mallorg 

more  influenced  in  this  matter  by  the  heinousness  of  the 
crime  itself,  by  the  moral  infection,  so  to  speak— that 
may  spring  from  any  kinship  with  Juliet  Sparling  or  in- 
heritance from  her— than  by  any  dread  of  social  disgrace 
or  disadvantage— if  that  be  true!— then  for  Oliver's  sake 
— for  that  poor  child's  sake — you  ought  to  listen  to  me! 
There,  I  can  meet  you — there,  I  have  much  to  say." 

He  looked  at  her  earnestly.  The  slight,  involuntary 
changes  of  expression  in  Lady  Lucy,  as  he  was  speaking, 
made  him  say  to  himself :  "  She  is  not  indifferent  to  the 
social  stigma — she  deceives  herself!"  But  he  made  no 
sign  of  his  perception;  he  held  her  to  her  word. 

She  paused,  in  evident  hesitation,  saying  at  last,  with 
some  coldness: 

"  If  you  wish  it,  Sir  James,  of  course  I  am  quite  ready 
to  listen.  I  desire  to  do  nothing  harshly." 

"  I  will  not  keep  you  long." 

Bending  forward,  his  hands  on  his  knees,  his  eyes 
upon  the  ground,  he  thought  a  moment.  When  he  began 
to  speak,  it  was  in  a  quiet  and  perfectly  colorless  tone. 

"I  knew  Juliet  Went  worth  first — when  she  was  seven- 
teen. I  was  on  the  Midland  Circuit,  and  went  down  to 
the  Milchester  Assizes.  Her  father  was  High  Sheriff, 
and  asked  me,  with  other  barristers  of  the  Circuit,  not 
only  to  his  official  dinner  in  the  county  town,  but  to 
luncheon  at  his  house,  a  mile  or  two  away.  There  I  saw 
Miss  Wentworth.  She  made  a  deep  impression  on  me. 
After  the  Assizes  were  over,  I  stayed  at  her  father's  house 
and  in  the  neighborhood.  Within  a  month  I  proposed  to 
her.  She  refused  me.  I  merely  mention  these  circum- 
stances for  the  sake  of  reporting  my  first  impressions  of 
her  character.  She  was  very  young,  and  of  an  extraor- 
dinarily nervous  and  sensitive  organization.  She  used 

237 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

to  remind  me  of  Horace's  image  of  the  young  fawn 
trembling  and  starting  in  the  mountain  paths  at  the 
rustling  of  a  leaf  or  the  movement  of  a  lizard.  I  felt 
then  that  her  life  might  very  well  be  a  tragedy,  and  I 
passionately  desired  to  be  able  to  protect  and  help  her. 
However,  she  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  me,  and 
after  a  little  while  I  lost  sight  of  her.  I  did  happen  to 
hear  that  her  father,  having  lost  his  first  wife,  had  married 
again,  that  the  girl  was  not  happy  at  home,  and  had  gone 
off  on  a  long  visit  to  some  friends  in  the  United  States. 
Then  for  years  I  heard  nothing.  One  evening,  about  ten 
years  after  my  first  meeting  with  her,  I  read  in  the  even- 
ing papers  the  accounts  of  a  '  Supposed  Murder  at  Brigh- 
ton.' Next  morning  Riley  &  Bonner  retained  me  for 
the  defence.  Mr.  Riley  came  to  see  me,  with  Mr.  Sparling, 
the  husband  of  the  incriminated  lady,  and  it  was  in  the 
course  of  my  consultation  with  them  that  I  learned  who 
Mrs.  Sparling  was.  I  had  to  consider  whether  to  take 
up  the  case  or  not;  I  saw  at  once  it  would  be  a  fight  for 
her  life,  and  I  accepted  it." 

"What  a  terrible  —  terrible  —  position!"  murmured 
Lady  Lucy,  who  was  shading  her  eyes  with  her  hand. 

Sir  James  took  no  notice.  His  trained  mind  and  sense 
were  now  wholly  concerned  with  the  presentation  of  his 
story. 

"The  main  facts,  as  I  see  them,  were  these.  Juliet 
Wentworth  had  married — four  years  before  this  date — a 
scholar  and  archaeologist  whom  she  had  met  at  Harvard 
during  her  American  stay.  Mr.  Sparling  was  an  English- 
man, and  a  man  of  some  means  who  was  devoting  him- 
self to  exploration  in  Asia  Minor.  The  marriage  was  not 
really  happy,  though  they  were  in  love  with  each  other. 
In  both  there  was  a  temperament  touched  with  melan- 

338 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

choly,  and  a  curious  incapacity  to  accept  the  common 
facts  of  life.  Both  hated  routine,  and  were  always  rest- 
less for  new  experience.  Mrs.  Sparling  was  brilliant  in 
society.  She  was  wonderfully  handsome,  in  a  small 
slight  way;  her  face  was  not  unlike  Miss  Curran's  picture 
of  Shelley — the  same  wildness  and  splendor  in  the  eyes, 
the  same  delicacy  of  feature,  the  same  slight  excess  of 
breadth  across  the  cheek-bones,  and  curly  mass  of  hair. 
She  was  odd,  wayward,  eccentric  —  yet  always  lovable 
and  full  of  charm.  He  was  a  fine  creature  in  many  ways, 
but  utterly  unfit  for  practical  life.  His  mind  was  always 
dreaming  of  buried  treasure — the  treasure  of  the  archae- 
ologist :  tombs,  vases,  gold  ornaments,  papyri;  he  had 
the  passion  of  the  excavator  and  explorer. 

"They  came  back  to  England  from  America  shortly 
after  their  marriage,  and  their  child  was  born.  The  little 
girl  was  three  years  old  when  Sparling  went  off  to  dig  in 
a  remote  part  of  Asia  Minor.  His  wife  resented  his 
going;  but  there  is  no  doubt  that  she  was  still  deeply  in 
love  with  him.  She  herself  took  a  little  house  at  Brigh- 
ton for  the  child's  sake.  Her  small  startling  beauty  soon 
made  her  remarked,  and  her  acquaintances  rapidly  in- 
creased. She  was  too  independent  and  unconventional 
to  ask  many  questions  about  the  people  that  amused  her; 
she  took  them  as  they  came — " 

"Sir  James! — dear  Sir  James."  Lady  Lucy  raised  a 
pair  of  imploring  hands.  "  What  good  can  it  do  that  you 
should  tell  me  all  this  ?  It  shows  that  this  poor  creature 
had  a  wild,  undisciplined  character.  Could  any  one  ever 
doubt  it?" 

"Wild?  undisciplined?"  repeated  Sir  James.  "Well, 
if  you  think  that  you  have  disposed  of  the  mystery  of 
it  by  those  adjectives!  For  me — looking  back— she  was 

239 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

what  life  and  temperament  and  heredity  had  made  her. 
Up  to  this  point  it  was  an  innocent  wildness.  She 
could  lose  herself  in  art  or  music ;  she  did  often  the  most 
romantic  and  generous  things;  she  adored  her  child; 
and  but  for  some  strange  kink  in  the  tie  that  bound  them, 
she  would  have  adored  her  husband.  Well!" — he  shrug- 
ged his  shoulders  mournfully  —  "  there  it  is  :  she  was 
alone — she  was  beautiful — she  had  no  doubt  a  sense  of 
being  neglected — she  was  thirsting  for  some  deeper 
draught  of  life  than  had  yet  been  hers — and  by  the  hide- 
ous irony  of  fate  she  found  it — in  gambling ! — and  in  the 
friendship  which  ruined  her!" 

Sir  James  paused.  Rising  from  his  chair,  he  began  to 
pace  the  large  room.  The  immaculate  butler  came  in, 
made  up  the  fire,  and  placed  the  tea :  domestic  and  com- 
fortable rites,  in  grim  contrast  with  the  story  that  held 
the  minds  of  Lady  Lucy  and  her  guest.  She  sat  motion- 
less meanwhile;  the  butler  withdrew,  and  the  tea  re- 
mained untouched. 

"  Sir  Francis  and  Lady  Wing  —  the  two  fiends  who 
got  possession  of  her — had  been  settled  at  Brighton  for 
about  a  year.  Their  debts  had  obliged  them  to  leave 
London,  and  they  had  not  yet  piled  up  a  sufficient  moun- 
tain of  fresh  ones  to  drive  them  out  of  Brighton.  The 
man  was  the  disreputable  son  of  a  rich  and  hard- working 
father  who,  in  the  usual  way,  had  damned  his  son  by  re- 
moving all  incentives  to  work,  and  turning  him  loose 
with  a  pile  of  money.  He  had  married  an  adventuress — 
a  girl  with  a  music-hall  history,  some  beauty,  plenty  of 
vicious  ability,  and  no  more  conscience  than  a  stone. 
They  were  the  centre  of  a  gambling  and  racing  set;  but 
Lady  Wing  was  also  a  very  fine  musician,  and  it  was 
through  this  talent  of  hers  that  she  and  Juliet  Sparling 

240 


The    Testing   of    Diana    Mallorg 

became  acquainted.  They  met,  first,  at  a  charity  con- 
cert! Mrs.  Sparling  had  a  fine  voice,  Lady  Wing  accom- 
panied her.  The  Wings  flattered  her,  and  professed  to 
adore  her.  Her  absent  whimsical  character  prevented 
her  from  understanding  what  kind  of  people  they  were; 
and  in  her  great  ignorance  of  the  world,  combined  with 
her  love  of  the  romantic  and  the  extreme,  she  took  the 
persons  who  haunted  their  house  for  Bohemians,  when 
she  should  have  known  them — the  majority  of  them — 
for  scoundrels.  You  will  remember  that  baccarat  was 
then  the  rage.  The  Wings  played  it  incessantly,  and 
were  very  skilful  in  the  decoying  and  plunder  of  young 
men.  Juliet  Sparling  was  soon  seized  by  the  excitement 
of  the  game,  and  her  beauty,  her  evident  good  breeding 
and  good  faith,  were  of  considerable  use  to  the  Wings' 
manage.  Very  soon  she  had  lost  all  the  money  that  her 
husband  had  left  to  her  credit,  and  her  bankers  wrote  to 
notify  her  that  she  was  overdrawn.  A  sudden  terror  of 
Sparling's  displeasure  seized  her;  she  sold  a  bracelet, 
and  tried  to  win  back  what  she  had  lost.  The  result  was 
only  fresh  loss,  and  in  a  panic  she  played  on  and  on,  till 
one  disastrous  night  she  got  up  from  the  baccarat-table 
heavily  in  debt  to  one  or  two  persons,  including  Sir 
Francis  Wing.  With  the  morning  came  a  letter  from 
her  husband,  remonstrating  in  a  rather  sharp  tone  on 
what  her  own  letters — and  probably  an  account  from 
some  other  source — had  told  him  of  her  life  at  Brighton ; 
insisting  on  the  need  for  economy,  owing  to  his  own 
heavy  expenses  in  the  great  excavation  he  was  engaged 
upon;  and  expressing  the  peremptory  hope  that  she 
would  make  the  money  he  had  left  her  last  for  another 
two  months — " 

Sir  James  lingered  in  his  walk.     He  stared  out  of 

241 


The   Testing   of    Diana    Mallorg 

window  at  the  square  garden  for  a  few  moments,  then 
turned  to  look  frowning  at  his  companion. 

"Then  came  her  temptation.  Her  father  had  died 
a  year  before,  leaving  her  the  trustee  of  her  only  sister, 
who  was  not  yet  of  age.  It  had  taken  some  little  time  to 
wind  up  his  affairs;  but  on  the  day  after  she  received 
her  husband's  letter  of  remonstrance,  six  thousand 
pounds  out  of  her  father's  estate  was  paid  into  her  bank- 
ing account.  By  this  time  she  was  in  one  of  those  states 
of  excitement  and  unreasoning  terror  to  which  she  had 
been  liable  from  her  childhood.  She  took  the  trust  mon- 
ey in  order  to  pay  the  debts,  and  then  gambled  again  in 
order  to  replace  the  trust  money.  Her  motive  through- 
out wad  the  motive  of  the  hunted  creature.  She  was 
afraid  of  confessing  to  her  husband,  especially  by  letter. 
She  believed  he  would  cast  her  off — and  in  her  despair 
and  remorse  she  clung  to  his  affection,  and  to  the  hope 
of  his  coming  home,  as  she  had  never  yet  done. 

11  In  less  than  a  month — in  spite  of  ups  and  downs  of 
fortune,  probably  skilfully  contrived  by  Francis  Wing 
and  his  accomplices — for  there  can  be  no  question  that 
the  play  was  fraudulent — she  had  lost  four  thousand  out 
of  the  six;  and  it  is  clear  that  more  than  once  she  thought 
of  suicide  as  the  only  way  out,  and  nothing  but  the 
remembrance  of  the  child  restrained  her.  By  this  time 
Francis  Wing,  who  was  a  most  handsome,  well  -  bred, 
and  plausible  villain,  was  desperately  in  love  with  her — 
if  one  can  use  the  word  love  for  such  a  passion.  He 
began  to  lend  her  money  in  small  sums.  She  was  in- 
duced to  look  upon  him  as  her  only  friend,  and  forced 
by  the  mere  terror  of  the  situation  in  which  she  found 
herself  to  propitiate  and  play  him  as  best  she  might. 
One  day,  in  an  unguarded  moment  of  remorse,  she  let 

242 


The    Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

him  guess  what  had  happened  about  the  trust  money. 
Thenceforward  she  was  wholly  in  his  power.  He  pressed 
his  attentions  upon  her;  and  she,  alternately  civil  and 
repellent,  as  her  mood  went,  was  regarded  by  some  of 
the  guests  in  the  house  as  not  unlikely  to  respond  to 
them  in  the  end.  Meanwhile  he  had  told  his  wife  the 
secret  of  the  trust  money  for  his  own  purposes.  Lady 
Wing,  who  was  an  extremely  jealous  woman,  believed  at 
this  time  that  he  was  merely  pretending  a  passion  for 
Mrs.  Sparling  in  order  the  more  securely  to  plunder  what 
still  remained  of  the  six  thousand  pounds.  She  therefore 
aided  and  abetted  him;  and  her  plan,  no  doubt,  was  to 
wait  till  they  and  their  accomplices  had  absorbed  the  last 
of  Mrs.  Sparling's  money,  and  then  to  make  a  midnight 
flitting,  leaving  their  victim  to  her  fate. 

"  The  denouement,  however,  came  with  frightful  rapid- 
ity. The  Wings  had  taken  an  old  house  at  the  back  of 
the  downs  for  the  summer,  no  doubt  to  escape  from  some 
of  the  notoriety  they  had  gained  in  Brighton.  There — to 
her  final  ruin — Juliet  Sparling  was  induced  to  join  them, 
and  gambling  began  again;  she  still  desperately  hoping 
to  replace  the  trust  money,  and  salving  her  conscience, 
as  to  her  sister,  by  drawing  for  the  time  on  tfye  sums  lent 
her  by  Francis  Wing. — Here  at  last  Lady  Wing's  sus- 
picion was  aroused,  and  Mrs.  Sparling  found  herself  be- 
tween the  hatred  of  the  wife  and  the  dishonorable  pas- 
sion of  the  husband.  Yet  to  leave  them  would  be  the 
signal  for  exposure.  For  some  time  the  presence  of  other 
guests  protected  her.  Then  the  guests  left,  and  one 
August  night  after  dinner,  Francis  Wing,  who  had  drunk 
a  great  deal  of  champagne,  made  frantic  love  to  her.  She 
escaped  from  him  with  difficulty,  in  a  passion  of  loathing 
and  terror,  and  rushed  in-doors,  where  she  found  Lady 

243 


The  Testing    of   Diana    Mallorg 

Wing  in  the  gallery  of  the  old  house,  on  the  first  floor, 
walking  up  and  down  in  a  jealous  fury.  Juliet  Sparling 
burst  in  upon  her  with  the  reproaches  of  a  woman  driven 
to  bay,  threatening  to  go  at  once  to  her  husband  and 
make  a  clean  breast  of  the  whole  history  of  their  miser- 
able acquaintance.  She  was  practically  beside  herself — 
already,  as  the  sequel  showed,  mortally  ill,  worn  out  by 
remorse  and  sleeplessness,  and  quivering  under  the  insult 
which  had  been  offered  her.  Lady  Wing  recovered  her 
own  self-possession  under  the  stimulus  of  Juliet's  break- 
down. She  taunted  her  in  the  crudest  way,  accused  her 
of  being  the  temptress  in  the  case  of  Sir  Francis,  and  of 
simulating  a  hypocritical  indignation  in  order  to  save 
herself  with  her  husband,  and  finally  charged  her  with 
the  robbery  of  her  sister's  money,  declaring  that  as  soon 
as  daylight  came  she  would  take  steps  to  set  the  crimi- 
nal law  in  motion,  and  so  protect  both  herself  and  her 
husband  from  any  charge  such  a  woman  might  bring 
against  them.  The  threat,  of  course,  was  mere  bluff. 
But  Mrs.  Sparling,  in  her  frenzy  and  her  ignorance,  took 
it  for  truth.  Finally,  the  fierce  creature  came  up  to  her, 
snatching  at  a  brooch  in  the  bosom  of  her  dress,  and 
crying  out  in  the  vilest  language  that  it  was  Sir  Francis's 
gift.  Juliet,  pushed  up  against  the  panelling  of  the 
gallery,  caught  at  a  dagger  belonging  to  a  trophy  of 
Eastern  arms  displayed  on  the  wall,  close  to  her  hand, 
and  struck  wildly  at  her  tormentor.  The  dagger  pierced 
Lady  Wing's  left  breast — she  was  in  evening  dress  and 
dtcolktee;  it  penetrated  to  the  heart,  and  she  fell  dead  at 
Juliet's  feet  as  her  husband  entered  the  gallery.  Juliet 
dropped  the  dagger;  and  as  Sir  Francis  rushed  to  his 
wife,  she  fled  shrieking  up  the  stairs — her  white  dress 
covered  with  blood — to  her  own  room,  falling  uncon- 

244 


The    Testing    of  Diana  Mallorg 

scious  before  she  reached  it.  She  was  carried  to  her 
room  by  the  servants — the  police  were  sent  for — and  the 
rest — or  most  of  the  rest — you  know." 

Sir  James  ceased  speaking.  A  heavy  silence  possessed 
the  room. 

Sir  James  walked  quickly  up  to  his  companion. 

"  Now  I  ask  you  to  notice  two  points  in  the  story  as  I 
have  told  it.  My  cross-examination  of  Wing  served  its 
purpose  as  an  exposure  of  the  man — except  in  one  di- 
rection. He  swore  that  Mrs.  Sparling  had  made  dis- 
honorable advances  to  him,  and  had  finally  become  his 
mistress,  in  order  to  buy  his  silence  on  the  trust  money 
and  the  continuance  of  his  financial  help.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  case  for  the  defence  was  that — as  I  have 
stated — it  was  in  the  maddened  state  of  feeling,  provoked 
by  his  attack  upon  her  honor,  and  made  intolerable 
by  the  wife's  taunts  and  threats,  that  Juliet  Sparling 
struck  the  fatal  blow.  At  the  trial  the  judge  believed 
me ;  the  jury  —  and  a  large  part  of  the  public  —  you, 
I  have  no  doubt  among  them  —  believed  Wing.  The 
jury  were  probably  influenced  by  some  of  the  evidence 
given  by  the  fellow-guests  in  the  house,  which  seemed 
to  me  simply  to  amount  to  this — that  a  woman  in  the 
strait  in  which  Juliet  Sparling  was  will  endeavor,  out  of 
mortal  fear,  to  keep  the  ruffian  who  has  her  in  his  power 
in  a  good-humor." 

"  However,  I  have  now  confirmatory  evidence  for  my 
theory  of  the  matter  —  evidence  which  has  never  been 
produced — and  which  I  tell  you  now  simply  because 
the  happiness  of  her  child — and  of  your  son — is  at 
stake." 

Lady  Lucy  moved  a  little.  The  color  returned  to  her 
cheeks.  Sir  James,  however,  gave  her  no  time  to  in- 

245 


The    Testing    of   Diana   Mallorg 

ternipt.  He  stood  before  her,  smiting  one  hand  against 
another,  to  emphasize  his  words,  as  he  continued: 

"Francis  Wing  lived  for  some  eighteen  years  after 
Mrs.  Sparling's  death.  Then,  just  as  the  police  were  at 
last  on  his  track  as  the  avengers  of  a  long  series  of  frauds, 
he  died  at  Antwerp  in  extreme  poverty  and  degradation. 
The  day  before  he  died  he  dictated  a  letter  to  me,  which 
reached  me,  through  a  priest,  twenty-four  hours  after  his 
death.  For  his  son's  sake,  he  invited  me  to  regard  it  as 
confidential.  If  Mrs.  Sparling  had  been  alive  I  should, 
of  course,  have  taken  no  notice  of  the  request.  But  she 
had  been  dead  for  eighteen  years;  I  had  lost  sight  com- 
pletely of  Sparling  and  the  child,  and,  curiously  enough, 
I  knew  something  of  Wing's  son.  He  was  about  ten 
years  old  at  the  death  of  his  mother,  and  was  then 
rescued  from  his  father  by  the  Wing  kindred  and  de- 
cently brought  up.  At  the  time  the  letter  reached  me 
he  was  a  promising  young  man  of  eight-and- twenty,  he 
had  just  been  called  to  the  Bar,  and  he  was  in  the 
chambers  of  a  friend  of  mine.  By  publishing  Wing's 
confession  I  could  do  no  good  to  the  dead,  and  I 
might  harm  the  living.  So  I  held  my  tongue. 
Whether,  now,  I  should  still  hold  it  is,  no  doubt,  a 
question. 

"  However,  to  go  back  to  the  statement.  Wing  de- 
clared to  me  in  this  letter  that  Juliet  Sparling's  relation 
to  him  had  been  absolutely  innocent,  that  he  had  per- 
secuted her  with  his  suit,  and  she  had  never  given  him  a 
friendly  word,  except  out  of  fear.  On  the  fatal  evening 
he  had  driven  her  out  of  her  mind,  he  said,  by  his  be- 
havior in  the  garden;  she  was  not  answerable  for  her 
actions;  and  his  evidence  at  the  trial  was  merely  dictated 
either  by  the  desire  to  make  his  own  case  look  less  black 

246 


The  Testing    o*  Diana   Mallory 

or  by  the  fiendish  wish  to  punish  Juliet  Sparling  for  her 
loathing  of  him. 

"But  he  confessed  something  else!— more  important 
still.  I  must  go  back  a  little.  You  will  remember  my 
version  of  the  dagger  incident?  I  represented  Mrs. 
Sparling  as  finding  the  dagger  on  the  wall  as  she  was 
pushed  or  dragged  up  against  the  panelling  by  her  an- 
tagonist— as  it  were,  under  her  hand.  Wing  swore  at 
the  trial  that  the  dagger  was  not  there,  and  had  never 
been  there.  The  house  belonged  to  an  old  traveller  and 
sportsman  who  had  brought  home  arms  of  different  sorts 
from  all  parts  of  the  world.  The  house  was  full  of  them. 
There  were  two  collections  of  them  on  the  wall  of  the 
dining-room,  one  in  the  hall,  and  one  or  two  in  the 
gallery.  Wing  declared  that  the  dagger  used  was  taken 
by  Juliet  Sparling  from  the  hall  trophy,  and  must  have 
been  carried  up-stairs  with  a  deliberate  purpose  of  mur- 
der. According  to  him,  their  quarrel  in  the  garden  had 
been  a  quarrel  about  money  matters,  and  Mrs.  Sparling 
had  left  him,  in  great  excitement,  convinced  that  the 
chief  obstacle  in  the  way  of  her  complete  control  of  Wing 
and  his  money  lay  in  the  wife.  There  again — as  to  the 
weapon — I  had  no  means  of  refuting  him.  As  far  as  the 
appearance — after  the  murder — of  the  racks  holding  the 
arms  was  concerned,  the  weapon  might  have  been  taken 
from  either  place.  And  again — on  the  whole — the  jury 
believed  Wing.  The  robbery  of  the  sister's  money — the 
incredible  rapidity  of  Juliet  Sparling's  deterioration — 
had  set  them  against  her.  Her  wild  beauty,  her  proud 
and  dumb  misery  in  the  dock,  were  of  a  kind  rather  to 
alienate  the  plain  man  than  to  move  him.  They  be- 
lieved her  capable  of  anything — and  it  was  natural 
enough. 

247 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

"  But  Wing  confessed  to  me  that  he  knew  perfectly  well 
that  the  dagger  belonged  to  the  stand  in  the  gallery.  He 
had  often  examined  the  arms  there,  and  was  quite  certain 
of  the  fact.  He  swore  this  to  the  priest.  Here,  again, 
you  can  only  explain  his  evidence  by  a  desire  for  re- 
venge." 

Sir  James  paused.  As  he  moved  a  little  away  from 
his  companion  his  expression  altered.  It  was  as  though 
he  put  from  him  the  external  incidents  and  considera- 
tions with  which  he  had  been  dealing,  and  the  vivacity  of 
manner  which  fitted  them.  Feelings  and  forces  of  an- 
other kind  emerged,  clothing  themselves  in  the  beauty 
of  an  incomparable  voice,  and  in  an  aspect  of  humane 
and  melancholy  dignity. 

He  turned  to  Lady  Lucy. 

"  Now  then, "  he  said,  gently,  "  I  am  in  a  position  to 
put  the  matter  to  you  finally,  as — before  God — it  appears 
to  me.  Juliet  Sparling — as  I  said  to  Oliver  last  night — 
was  not  a  bad  woman!  She  sinned  deeply,  but  she  was 
never  false  to  her  husband  in  thought  or  deed;  none  of 
her  wrong-doing  was  deliberate;  she  was  tortured  by 
remorse;  and  her  murderous  act  was  the  impulse  of  a 
moment,  and  partly  in  self-defence.  It  was  wholly  un- 
premeditated; and  it  killed  her  no  less  than  her  victim. 
When,  next  day,  she  was  removed  by  the  police,  she  was 
already  a  dying  woman.  I  have  in  my  possession  a  letter 
— written  to  me  by  her — after  her  release,  in  view  of  her 
impending  death,  by  the  order  of  the  Home  Office — a 
few  days  before  she  died.  It  is  humble — it  is  heart- 
rending— it  breathes  the  sincerity  of  one  who  had  turned 
all  her  thoughts  from  earth ;  but  it  thanked  me  for  having 
read  her  aright;  and  if  ever  I  could  have  felt  a  doubt 
of  my  own  interpretation  of  the  case — but,  thank  God, 

248 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

I  never  did! — that  letter  would  have  shamed  it  out  of 
me!  Poor  soul,  poor  soul!  She  sinned,  and  she  suf- 
fered— agonies,  beyond  any  penalty  of  man's  inflicting. 
Will  you  prolong  her  punishment  in  her  child  ?" 

Lady  Lucy  had  covered  her  face  with  her  hand.  He 
saw  her  breath  flutter  in  her  breast.  And  sitting  down 
beside  her,  blanched  by  the  effort  he  had  made,  and  by 
the  emotion  he  had  at  last  permitted  himself,  yet  fixing 
his  eyes  steadily  on  the  woman  before  him,  he  waited  for 
her  reply. 
17 


CHAPTER  XII 

I  ADY  LUCY  did  not  reply  at  once.  She  slowly  drew 
Lrf  forward  the  neglected  tea-table,  made  tea,  and  of- 
fered it  to  Sir  James.  He  took  it  impatiently,  the  Irish 
blood  in  him  running  hot  and  fast;  and  when  she  had 
finished  her  cup,  and  still  the  silence  lasted,  except  for 
the  trivial  question-and-answer  of  the  tea-making,  he 
broke  in  upon  it  with  a  somewhat  peremptory — 

"Well?" 

Lady  Lucy  clasped  her  hands  on  her  lap.  The  hand 
which  had  been  so  far  bare  was  now  gloved  like  the 
other,  and  something  in  the  spectacle  of  the  long  fingers, 
calmly  interlocked  and  clad  in  spotless  white  kid,  in- 
creased the  secret  exasperation  in  her  companion. 

"  Believe  me,  dear  Sir  James,"  she  said  at  last,  lift- 
ing her  clear  brown  eyes,  "  I  am  very  grateful  to  you. 
It  must  have  been  a  great  effort  for  you  to  tell  me  this 
awful  story,  and  I  thank  you  for  the  confidence  you  have 
reposed  in  me." 

Sir  James  pushed  his  chair  back. 

"  I  did  it,  of  course,  for  a  special  reason,"  he  said, 
sharply.  "  I  hope  I  have  given  you  cause  to  change 
your  mind." 

She  shook  her  head  slowly. 

"  What  have  you  proved  to  me  ?  That  Mrs.  Sparling's 
crime  was  not  so  hideous  as  some  of  us  supposed  ? — 
that  she  did  not  fall  to  the  lowest  depths  of  all? — and 

250 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

that  she  endured  great  provocation  ?  But  could  anything 
really  be  more  vile  than  the  history  of  those  weeks  of 

excitement  and  fraud  ? — of  base  yielding  to  temptation  ? 

of  cruelty  to  her  husband  and  child  ? — even  as  you  have 
told  it?  Her  conduct  led  directly  to  adultery  and  vio- 
lence. If,  by  God's  mercy,  she  was  saved  from  the 
worst  crimes  imputed  to  her,  does  it  make  much  dif- 
ference to  the  moral  judgment  we  must  form  ?" 

He  looked  at  her  in  amazement. 

"No  difference! — between  murder  and  a  kind  of  ac- 
cident?— between  adultery  and  fidelity?" 

Lady  Lucy  hesitated — then  resumed,  with  stubborn- 
ness: "You  put  it — like  an  advocate.  But  look  at  the 
indelible  facts — look  at  the  future.  If  my  son  married 
the  daughter  of  such  a  woman  and  had  children,  what 
must  happen?  First  of  all,  could  he,  could  any  one, 
be  free  from  the  dread  of  inherited  lawlessness  and 
passion?  A  woman  does  not  gamble,  steal,  and  take 
life  in  a  moment  of  violence  without  some  exceptional 
flaw  in  temperament  and  will,  and  we  see  again  and 
again  how  such  flaws  reappear  in  the  descendants  of 
weak  and  wicked  people.  Then  again — Oliver  must  re- 
nounce and  throw  away  all  that  is  implied  in  family 
memories  and  traditions.  His  wife  could  never  speak 
to  her  children  and  his  of  her  own  mother  and  bringing 
up.  They  would  be  kept  in  ignorance,  as  she  herself  was 
kept,  till  the  time  came  that  they  must  know.  Say  what 
you  will,  Juliet  Sparling  was  condemned  to  death  for 
murder  in  a  notorious  case — after  a  trial  which  also 
branded  her  as  a  thief.  Think  of  a  boy  at  Eton  or  Ox- 
ford— a  girl  in  her  first  youth — hearing  for  the  first 
time — perhaps  in  some  casual  way — the  story  of  the 
woman  whose  blood  ran  in  theirs! — What  a  cloud  on 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

a  family! — what  a  danger  and  drawback  for  young 
lives!" 

Her  delicate  features,  under  the  crown  of  white  hair, 
were  once  more  flooded  with  color,  and  the  passion  in 
her  eyes  held  them  steady  under  Sir  James's  penetrat- 
ing look.  Through  his  inner  mind  there  ran  the  cry  : 
"  Pharisee! — Hypocrite!" 

But  he  fought  on. 

"Lady  Lucy! — your  son  loves  this  girl — remember 
that !  And  in  herself  you  admit  that  she  is  blameless — 
all  that  you  could  desire  for  his  wife — remember  that 
also." 

"  I  remember  both.  But  I  was  brought  up  by  people 
who  never  admitted  that  any  feeling  was  beyond  our 
control  or  ought  to  be  indulged — against  right  and 
reason." 

"  Supposing  Oliver  entirely  declines  to  take  your  view  ? 
— supposing  he  marries  Miss  Mallory?" 

"  He  will  not  break  my  heart,"  she  said,  drawing  a 
quicker  breath.  "He  will  get  over  it." 

"But  if  he  persists?" 

"  He  must  take  the  consequences.  I  cannot  aid  and 
abet  him." 

"And  the  girl  herself?  She  has  accepted  him.  She 
is  young,  innocent,  full  of  tender  and  sensitive  feeling. 
Is  it  possible  that  you  should  not  weigh  her  claim  against 
your  fears  and  scruples?" 

"  I  feel  for  her  most  sincerely." 

Sir  James  suddenly  threw  out  a  restless  foot,  which 
caught  Lady  Lucy's  fox  terrier,  who  was  snoozing  under 
the  tea-table.  He  hastily  apologized,  and  the  speaker 
resumed : 

"  But,  in  my  opinion,  she  would  do  a  far  nobler  thing 
252 


The    Testing   of   Diana    Mallory 

if  she  regarded  herself  as  bound  to  some  extent  to  bear 
her  mother's  burden — to  pay  her  mother's  debt  to  society. 
It  may  sound  harsh  —  but  is  it  ?  Is  a  dedicated  life 
necessarily  an  unhappy  life?  Would  not  everybody 
respect  and  revere  her  ?  She  would  sacrifice  herself,  as 
the  Sister  of  Mercy  does,  or  the  missionary,  and  she 
would  find  her  reward.  But  to  enter  a  family  with  an 
unstained  record,  bearing  with  her  such  a  name  and  such 
associations,  would  be,  in  my  opinion,  a  wrong  and  self- 
ish act!" 

Lady  Lucy  drew  herself  to  her  full  height.  In  the 
dusk  of  the  declining  afternoon  the  black  satin  and  white 
ruffles  of  her  dress,  her  white  head  in  its  lace  cap.  her  thin 
neck  and  shoulders,  her  tall  slenderness,  and  the  rigidity 
of  her  attitude,  made  a  formidable^tudyinpersonality. 
Sir  James's  whole  soul  rose  in  one  scornful  and  indig- 
nant protest.  But  he  felt  himself  beaten.  The  only 
hope  lay  in  Oliver  himself. 

He  rose  slowly  from  his  chair. 

"  It  is  useless,  I  see,  to  try  and  argue  the  matter  further. 
But  I  warn  you :  I  do  not  believe  that  Oliver  will  obey 
you,  and  —  forgive  me  Lady  Lucy! — but — frankly — I 
hope  he  will  not.  Nor  will  he  suffer  too  severely,  even  if 
you,  his  mother,  desert  him.  Miss  Mallory  has  some 
fortune — " 

"  Oliver  will  not  live  upon  his  wife!" 

"  He  may  accept  her  aid  till  he  has  found  some  way  of 
earning  money.  What  amazes  me — if  you  will  allow  me 
the  liberty  of  an  old  friend— is  that  you  should  think  a 
woman  justified  in  coercing  a  son  of  mature  age  in  such 
a  matter!" 

His  tone,  his  manner  pierced  Lady  Lucy's  pride.  She 
threw  back  her  head  nervously,  but  her  tone  was  calm : 

253 


The   Testing   of   Diana   Mallory 

"  A  woman  to  whom  property  has  been  intrusted  must 
do  her  best  to  see  that  the  will  and  desires  of  those  who 
placed  it  in  her  hands  are  carried  out!" 

"Well,  well!" — Sir  James  looked  for  his  stick — "  I  am 
sorry  for  Oliver — but" — he  straightened  himself — "it 
will  make  a  bigger  man  of  him." 

Lady  Lucy  made  no  reply,  but  her  expression  was 
eloquent  of  a  patience  which  her  old  friend  might  abuse 
if  he  would. 

"Does  Ferrier  know?  Have  you  consulted  him?" 
asked  Sir  James,  turning  abruptly. 

"He  will  be  here,  I  think,  this  afternoon — as  usual," 
said  Lady  Lucy,  evasively.  "  And,  of  course,  he  must 
know  what  concerns  us  so  deeply." 

As  she  spoke  the  hall-door  bell  was  heard. 

"That  is  probably  he."  She  looked  at  her  companion 
uncertainly.  "  Don't  go,  Sir  James — unless  you  are  really 
in  a  hurry." 

The  invitation  was  not  urgent;  but  Sir  James  stayed, 
all  the  same.  Ferrier  was  a  man  so  interesting  to  his 
friends  that  no  judgment  of  his  could  be  indifferent  to 
them.  Moreover,  there  was  a  certain  angry  curiosity  as 
to  how  far  Lady  Lucy's  influence  would  affect  him. 
Chide  took  inward  note  of  the  fact  that  his  speculation 
took  this  form,  and  not  another.  Oh!  the  hypocritical 
obstinacy  of  decent  women! — the  lack  in  them  of  heart, 
of  generosity,  of  imagination!, 

The  door  opened,  and  Ferrier  entered,  with  Marsham 
and  the  butler  behind  him.  Mr.  Ferrier,  in  his  London 
frock-coat,  appeared  rounder  and  heavier  than  ever  but 
for  the  contradictory  vigor  and  lightness  of  his  step, 
the  shrewd  cheerfulness  of  the  eyes.  It  had  been  a 
hard  week  in  Parliament,  however,  and  his  features 

254 


The    Testing    of   Diana    Mallorg 

and  complexion  showed  signs  of  overwork  and  short 
sleep. 

For  a  few  minutes,  while  tea  was  renewed,  and  the  cur- 
tains closed,  he  maintained  a  pleasant  chat  with  Lady 
Lucy,  while  the  other  two  looked  at  each  other  in  silence. 

But  when  the  servant  had  gone,  Ferrier  put  down  his 
cup  unfinished.  "  I  am  very  sorry  for  you  both, "  he 
said,  gravely,  looking  from  Lady  Lucy  to  her  son.  "  I 
need  not  say  your  letter  this  morning  took  me  wholly  by 
surprise.  I  have  since  been  doing  my  best  to  think  of  a 
way  out." 

There  was  a  short  pause — broken  by  Marsham,  who 
was  sitting  a  little  apart  from  the  others,  restlessly 
fingering  a  paper-knife. 

"  If  you  could  persuade  my  mother  to  take  a  kind  and 
reasonable  view,"  he  said,  abruptly;  "that  is  really  the 
only  way  out." 

Lady  Lucy  stiffened  under  the  attack.  Drawn  on  by 
Ferrier's  interrogative  glance,  she  quietly  repeated,  with 
more  detail,  and  even  greater  austerity,  the  arguments 
and  considerations  she  had  made  use  of  in  her  wrestle 
with  Sir  James.  Chide  clearly  perceived  that  her  oppo- 
sition was  hardening  with  every  successive  explanation 
of  it.  What  had  been  at  first,  no  doubt,  an  instinctive 
recoil  was  now  being  converted  into  a  plausible  and  rea- 
soned case,  and  the  oftener  she  repeated  it  the  stronger 
would  she  become  on  her  own  side  and  the  more  in 
love  with  her  own  contentions. 

Ferrier  listened  attentively;  took  note  of  what  she 
reported  as  to  Sir  James's  fresh  evidence;  and  when  she 
ceased  called  upon  Chide  to  explain.  Chide's  second 
defence  of  Juliet  Sparling  as  given  to  a  fellow-lawyer 
was  a  remarkable  piece  of  technical  statement,  admira- 

255 


The   Testing   of    Diana    Mallory 

bly  arranged,  and  unmarked  by  any  trace  of  the  per- 
sonal feeling  he  had  not  been  able  to  hide  from  Lady  Lucy. 

"Most  interesting — most  interesting,"  murmured  Fer- 
rier,  as  the  story  came  to  an  end.  "  A  tragic  and  mem- 
orable case." 

He  pondered  a  little,  his  eyes  on  the  carpet,  while  the 
others  waited.  Then  he  turned  to  Lady  Lucy  and  took 
her  hand. 

"Dear  lady!"  he  said,  gently,  "I  think — you  ought 
to  give  way!" 

Lady  Lucy's  face  quivered  a  little.  She  decidedly 
withdrew  her  hand. 

"  I  am  sorry  you  are  both  against  me,"  she  said,  look- 
ing from  one  to  the  other.  "  I  am  sorry  you  help  Oliver 
to  think  unkindly  of  me.  But  if  I  must  stand  alone,  I 
must.  I  cannot  give  way." 

Ferrier  raised  his  eyebrows  with  a  little  perplexed 
look.  Thrusting  his  hands  into  his  pockets,  he  went  to 
stand  by  the  fire,  staring  down  into  it  a  minute  or  two, 
as  though  the  flames  might  bring  counsel. 

"Miss  Mallory  is  still  ignorant,  Oliver — is  that  so?" 
he  said,  at  last. 

"  Entirely.  But  it  is  not  possible  she  should  continue 
to  be  so.  She  has  begun  to  make  inquiries,  and  I  agree 
with  Sir  James  it  is  right  she  should  be  told — " 

"  I  propose  to  go  down  to  Beechcote  to-morrow,"  put 
in  Sir  James. 

"  Have  you  any  idea  what  view  Miss  Mallory  would 
be  likely  to  take  of  the  matter — as  affecting  her  engage- 
ment?" 

"She  could  have  no  view  that  was  not  unselfish  and 
noble — like  herself,"  said  Marsham,  hotly.  "What  has 
that  to  do  with  it?" 

256 


DEAR  LADY,'  HE  SAID,  GENTLY,  '  I  THINK  YOU  OUOHT  TO  r.  I V  K 
WAY  !!" 


The   Testing    o*  Diana   Mallorg 

"  She  might  release  you,"  was  Ferrier's  slow  reply. 

Marsham  flushed. 

"And  you  think  I  should  be  such  a  hound  as  to  let 
her!" 

Sir  James  only  just  prevented  himself  from  throwing 
a  triumphant  look  at  his  hostess. 

"  You  will,  of  course,  inform  her  of  your  mother's 
opposition?"  said  Ferrier. 

"  It  will  be  impossible  to  keep  it  from  her." 

"Poor  child!"  murmured  Ferrier — "poor  child!" 

Then  he  looked  at  Lady  Lucy. 

"May  I  take  Oliver  into  the  inner  room  a  little 
while?"  he  asked,  pointing  to  a  farther  drawing-room. 

"By  all  means.     I  shall  be  here  when  you  return." 

Sir  James  had  a  few  hurried  words  in  private 
with  Marsham,  and  then  took  his  leave.  As  he  and 
Lady  Lucy  shook  hands,  he  gave  her  a  penetrating 
look. 

"Try  and  think  of  the  girl!"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice; 
"the  girl — in  her  first  youth." 

"  I  think  of  my  son,"  was  the  unmoved  reply.  "  Good- 
bye, Sir  James.  I  feel  that  we  are  adversaries,  and  I 
wish  it  were  not  so." 

Sir  James  walked  away,  possessed  by  a  savage  desire 
to  do  some  damage  to  the  cathedral  in  pith,  as  he  passed 
it  on  his  way  to  the  door ;  or  to  shake  his  fist  in  the  faces 
of  Wilberforce  and  Lord  Shaftesbury,  whose  portraits 
adorned  the  staircase.  The  type  of  Catholic  woman 
which  he  most  admired  rose  in  his  mind ;  compassionate, 
tender,  infinitely  soft  and  loving — like  the  saints;  save 
where  "  the  faith  "  was  concerned — like  the  saints,  again. 
This  Protestant  rigidity  and  self  -  sufficiency  were  the 
deuce ! 

257 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

But  he  would  go  down  to  Beechcote,  and  he  and 
Oliver  between  them  would  see  that  child  through. 

Meanwhile,  Ferrier  and  Marsham  were  in  anxious  con- 
clave. Ferrier  counselled  delay.  "  Let  the  thing  sleep 
a  little.  Don't  announce  the  engagement.  You  and  Miss 
Mallory  will,  of  course,  understand  each  other.  You  will 
correspond.  But  don't  hurry  it.  So  much  considera- 
tion, at  least,  is  due  to  your  mother's  strong  feeling." 

Marsham  assented,  but  despondently. 

"You  know  my  mother;  time  will  make  no  differ- 
ence." 

"I'm  not  so  sure — I'm  not  so  sure,"  said  Ferrier, 
cheerfully.  "  Did  your  mother  say  anything  about — 
finances?" 

Marsham  gave  a  gloomy  smile. 

"  I  shall  be  a  pauper,  of  course — that  was  made  quite 
plain  to  me." 

"No,  no! — that  must  be  prevented!"  said  Ferrier, 
with  energy. 

Marsham  was  not  quick  to  reply.  His  manner  as  he 
stood  with  his  back  to  the  fire,  his  distinguished  head 
well  thrown  back  on  his  straight,  lean  shoulders,  was  the 
manner  of  a  proud  man  suffering  humiliation.  He  was 
thirty-six,  and  rapidly  becoming  a  politician  of  impor- 
tance. Yet  here  he  was — poor  and  impotent,  in  the 
midst  of  great  wealth,  wholly  dependent,  by  his  father's 
monstrous  will,  on  his  mother's  caprice — liable  to  be 
thwarted  and  commanded,  as  though  he  were  a  boy  of 
fifteen.  Up  till  now  Lady  Lucy's  yoke  had  been  toler- 
able ;  to-day  it  galled  beyond  endurance. 

Moreover,  there  was  something  peculiarly  irritating  at 
the  moment  in  Ferrier's  intervention.  There  had  been 

258 


The  Testing    of  Diana   Mallory 

increased  Parliamentary  friction  of  late  between  the  two 
men,  in  spite  of  the  intimacy  of  their  personal  relations. 
To  be  forced  to  owe  fortune,  career,  and  the  permission 
to  marry  as  he  pleased  to  Ferrier's  influence  with  his 
mother  was,  at  this  juncture,  a  bitter  pill  for  Oliver  Mar- 
sham. 

Ferrier  understood  him  perfectly,  and  he  had  never 
displayed  more  kindness  or  more  tact  than  in  the  con- 
versation which  passed  between  them.  Marsham  finally 
agreed  that  Diana  must  be  frankly  informed  of  his 
mother's  state  of  mind,  and  that  a  waiting  policy  offered 
the  only  hope.  On  this  they  were  retiring  to  the  front 
drawing-room  when  Lady  Lucy  opened  the  communi- 
cating door. 

"A  letter  for  you,  Oliver." 

He  took  it,  and  turned  it  over.  The  handwriting  was 
unknown  to  him. 

"Who  brought  this?"  he  asked  of  the  butler  standing 
behind  his  mother. 

"  A  servant,  sir,  from  Beechcote  Manor.  He  was  told 
to  wait  for  an  answer." 

"  I  will  send  one.     Come  when  I  ring." 

The  butler  departed,  and  Marsham  went  hurriedly 
into  the  inner  room,  closing  the  door  behind  him.  Ferrier 
and  Lady  Lucy  were  left,  looking  at  each  other  in  anxiety. 
But  before  they  could  put  it  into  words,  Marsham  re- 
appeared, in  evident  agitation.  He  hurried  to  the  bell 
and  rang  it. 

Lady  Lucy  pointedly  made  no  inquiry.  But  Ferrier 
spoke. 

"No  bad  news,  I  hope?" 

Marsham  turned. 

"  She  has  been  told,"  he  said,  hoarsely.     "  Mrs.  Col- 


The   Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

wood,  her  companion,  speaks  of  'shock.'  I  must  go 
down  at  once." 

Lady  Lucy  said  nothing.     She,  too,  had  grown  white. 

The  butler  appeared.  Marsham  asked  for  the  Sunday 
trains,  ordered  some  packing,  went  down-stairs  to  speak 
to  the  Beechcote  messenger,  and  returned. 

Ferrier  retired  into  the  farthest  window,  and  Marsham 
approached  his  mother. 

"  Good-bye,  mother.  I  will  write  to  you  from  Beech- 
cote,  where  I  shall  stay  at  the  little  inn  in  the  village. 
Have  you  no  kind  word  that  I  may  carry  with  me?" 

Lady  Lucy  looked  at  him  steadily. 

"  I  shall  write  myself  to  Miss  Mallory,  Oliver." 

His  pallor  gave  place  to  a  flush  of  indignation. 

"Is  it  necessary  to  do  anything  so  cruel,  mother?" 

"I  shall  not  write  cruelly." 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders  impatiently. 

"Considering  what  you  have  made  up  your  mind  to 
do,  I  should  have  thought  least  said,  soonest  mended. 
However,  if  you  must,  you  must.  I  can  only  prepare 
Diana  for  your  letter  and  soften  it  when  it  comes." 

"  In  your  new  love,  Oliver,  have  you  quite  forgotten 
the  old?"  Lady  Lucy's  voice  shook  for  the  first  time. 

"I  shall  be  only  too  glad  to  remember  it,  when  you 
give  me  the  opportunity,"  he  said,  sombrely. 

"  I  have  not  been  a  bad  mother  to  you,  Oliver.  I  have 
claims  upon  you." 

He  did  not  reply,  and  his  silence  wounded  Lady  Lucy 
to  the  quick.  Was  it  her  fault  if  her  husband,  out  of  an 
eccentric  distrust  of  the  character  of  his  son,  and  moved 
by  a  kind  of  old-fashioned  and  Spartan  belief  that  a  man 
must  endure  hardness  before  he  is  fit  for  luxury,  had 
made  her  and  not  Oliver  the  arbiter  and  legatee  of  his 

260 


The   Testing   o*   Diana   Mallory 

wealth?  But  Oliver  had  never  wanted  for  anything. 
He  had  only  to  ask.  What  right  had  she  to  thwart  her 
husband's  decision? 

"  Good-bye,  mother,"  said  Marsham  again.  "  If  you 
are  writing  to  Isabel  you  will,  I  suppose,  discuss  the  mat- 
ter with  her.  She  is  not  unlikely  to  side  with  you — not 
for  your  reason,  however — but  because  of  some  silly  non- 
sense about  politics.  If  she  does,  I  beg  she  will  not  write 
to  me.  It  could  only  embitter  matters." 

"I  will  give  her  your  message.     Good-bye,  Oliver." 

He  left  the  room,  with  a  gesture  of  farewell  to  Ferrier. 
/ 

Ferrier  came  back  toward  the  fire.  As  he  did  so 
he  was  struck — painfully  struck — by  a  change  in  Lady 
Lucy.  She  was  not  pale,  and  her  eyes  were  singularly 
bright.  Yet  age  was,  for  the  first  time,  written  in  a  face 
from  which  Time  had  so  far  taken  but  his  lightest  toll. 
It  moved  him  strangely;  though,  as  to  the  matter  in 
hand,  his  sympathies  were  all  with  Oliver.  But  through 
thirty  years  Lady  Lucy  had  been  the  only  woman  for 
him.  Since  first,  as  a  youth  of  twenty,  he  had  seen  her 
in  her  father's  house,  he  had  never  wavered.  She  was 
his  senior  by  five  years,  and  their  first  acquaintance  had 
been  one  of  boy-adoration  on  his  side  and  a  charming 
elder-sisterliness  on  hers.  Then  he  had  declared  him- 
self, and  she  had  refused  him  in  order  to  marry  Henry 
Marsham  and  Henry  Marsham's  fortune.  It  seemed  to 
him  then  that  he  would  soon  forget  her — soon  find  a 
warmer  and  more  generous  heart.  But  that  was  mere 
ignorance  of  himself.  After  awhile  he  became  the  inti- 
mate friend  of  her  husband,  herself,  and  her  child.  Some- 
thing, indeed,  had  happened  to  his  affection  for  her.  He 
felt  himself  in  no  danger  beside  her,  so  far  as  passion  was 

261 


The  Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

concerned;  and  he  knew  very  well  that  she  would  have 
banished  him  forever  at  a  moment's  notice  rather  than 
give  her  husband  an  hour's  uneasiness.  But  to  be  near 
her,  to  be  in  her  world,  consulted,  trusted,  and  flattered 
by  her,  to  slip  daily  into  his  accustomed  chair,  to  feel 
year  by  year  the  strands  of  friendship  and  of  intimacy 
woven  more  closely  between  him  and  her — between  him 
and  hers — these  things  gradually  filled  all  the  space  in  his 
life  left  by  politics  or  by  thought.  They  deprived  him  of 
any  other  home,  and  this  home  became  a  necessity. 

Then  Henry  Marsham  died.  Once  more  Ferrier  asked 
Lady  Lucy  to  marry  him,  and  again  she  refused.  He 
acquiesced;  their  old  friendship  was  resumed;  but,  once 
more,  with  a  difference.  In  a  sense  he  had  no  longer 
any  illusions  about  her.  He  saw  that  while  she  believed 
herself  to  be  acting  under  the  influence  of  religion  and 
other  high  matters,  she  was,  in  truth,  a  narrow  and 
rather  cold-hearted  woman,  with  a  strong  element  of 
worldliness,  disguised  in  much  placid  moralizing.  At 
the  bottom  of  his  soul  he  resented  her  treatment  of 
him,  and  despised  himself  for  submitting  to  it.  But  the 
old  habit  had  become  a  tyranny  not  to  be  broken.  Where 
else  could  he  go  for  talk,  for  intimacy,  for  rest?  And 
for  all  his  disillusion  there  were  still  at  her  command 
occasional  felicities  of  manner  and  strains  of  feeling — • 
ethereally  delicate  and  spiritual,  like  a  stanza  from  the 
Christian  Year — that  moved  him  and  pleased  his  taste 
as  nothing  else  had  power  to  move  and  please;  steeped, 
as  they  were,  in  a  far-off  magic  of  youth  and  memory. 

So  he  stayed  by  her,  and  she  knew  very  well  that  he 
would  stay  by  her  to  the  end. 

He  sat  down  beside  her  and  took  her  hand. 

"You  are  tired." 

262 


The   Testing    of   Diana   Mallory 

"  It  has  been  a  miserable  day." 

"  Shall  I  read  to  you  ?  It  would  be  wise,  I  think,  to 
put  it  out  of  your  mind  for  a  while,  and  come  back  to  it 
fresh." 

"  It  will  be  difficult  to  attend."  Her  smile  was  faint 
and  sad,  "But  I  will  do  my  best." 

He  took  up  a  volume  of  Dean  Church's  sermons,  and 
began  to  read.  Presently,  as  always,  his  subtler  self 
became  conscious  of  the  irony  of  the  situation.  He  was 
endeavoring  to  soothe  her  trouble  by  applying  to  it 
some  of  the  noblest  religious  thought  of  our  day,  ex- 
pressed in  the  noblest  language.  Such  an  attempt  im- 
plied some  moral  correspondence  between  the  message 
and  the  listener.  Yet  all  the  time  he  was  conscious 
himself  of  cowardice  and  hypocrisy.  What  part  of  the 
Christian  message  really  applied  to  Lady  Lucy  this  after- 
noon but  the  searching  words :  "  He  that  loveth  not  his 
brother  whom  he  hath  seen,  how  can  he  love  God  whom 
he  hath  not  seen?" 

Yet  he  read  on.  The  delicate  ascetic  face  of  his 
companion  grew  calmer;  he  himself  felt  a  certain  refresh- 
ment and  rest.  There  was  no  one  else  in  the  world  with 
whom  he  could  sit  like  this,  to  whom  he  could  speak 
or  read  of  the  inner  life.  Lucy  Marsham  had  made  him 
what  he  was,  a  childless  bachelor,  with  certain  memories 
in  his  past  life  of  which  he  was  ashamed — representing 
the  revenge  of  a  strong  man's  temperament  and  physical 
nature.  But  in  the  old  age  she  had  all  but  reached,  and 
he  was  approaching,  she  was  still  the  one  dear  and  in- 
dispensable friend.  If  she  must  needs  be  harsh  and 
tyrannical — well,  he  must  try  and  mitigate  the  effects,  for 
herself  and  others.  But  his  utmost  effort  must  restrain 
itself  within  certain  limits.  He  was  not  at  all  sure  that  if 

263 


The  Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

offended  in  some  mortal  point,  she  might  not  do  without 
him.  But  so  long  as  they  both  lived,  he  could  not  do 
without  her. 

Early  the  following  morning  Alicia  Drake  appeared 
in  Eaton  Square,  and  by  two  o'clock  Mrs.  Fotheringham 
was  also  there.  She  had  rushed  up  from  Leeds  by  the 
first  possible  train,  summoned  by  Alicia's  letter.  Lady 
Lucy  and  her  daughter  held  conference,  and  Miss  Drake 
was  admitted  to  their  counsels. 

"Of  course,  mamma,"  said  Isabel  Fotheringham,  "I 
don't  at  all  agree  with  you  in  the  matter.  Nobody  is 
responsible  for  their  mothers  and  fathers.  We  make  our- 
selves. But  I  shall  not  be  sorry  if  the  discovery  frees 
Oliver  from  a  marriage  which  would  have  been  a  rope 
round  his  neck.  She  is  a  foolish,  arrogant,  sentimental 
girl,  brought  up  on  the  most  wrong-headed  principles, 
and  she  could  never  have  made  a  decent  wife  for  him. 
She  will,  I  hope,  have  the  sense  to  see  it — and  he  will 
be  well  out  of  it." 

"Oliver,  at  present,  is  very  determined,"  said  Lady 
Lucy,  in  a  tone  of  depression. 

"  Oh,  well,  of  course,  having  just  proposed  to  her,  he 
must,  of  course,  behave  like  a  gentleman — and  not  like  a 
cad.  But  she  can't  possibly  hold  him  to  it.  You  will 
write  to  her,  mamma — and  so  shall  I." 

"We  shall  make  him,  I  fear,  very  angry." 

"Oliver?  Well,  there  are  moments  in  every  family 
when  it  is  no  use  shirking.  We  have  to  think  of  Oliver's 
career,  and  what  he  may  do  for  his  party,  and  for  re- 
form. You  think  he  proposed  to  her  in  that  walk  on 
the  hill?"  said  Mrs.  Fotheringham,  turning  to  her  cousin 
Alicia. 

264 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorij 

Alicia  woke  up  from  a  brown-study  of  her  own.  She 
was  dressed  with  her  usual  perfection  in  a  gray  cloth, 
just  suggesting  the  change  of  season.  Her  felt  hat  with 
its  plume  of  feathers  lay  on  her  lap,  and  her  hair,  slightly 
loosened  by  the  journey,  captured  the  eye  by  its  abun- 
dance and  beauty.  The  violets  on  her  breast  perfumed 
the  room,  and  the  rings  upon  her  hands  flashed  just  as 
much  as  is  permitted  to  an  unmarried  girl,  and  no  more. 
As  Mrs.  Fotheringham  looked  at  her,  she  said  to  herself: 
"Another  Redfern!  Really  Alicia  is  too  extravagant!" 

On  that  head  no  one  could  have  reproached  herself. 
A  cheap  coat  and  skirt,  much  worn,  a  hat  of  no  particular 
color  or  shape,  frayed  gloves  and  disreputable  boots, 
proclaimed  both  the  parsimony  of  her  father's  will  and 
the  independence  of  her  opinions. 

"  Oh,  of  course  he  proposed  on  the  hill,"  replied  Alicia, 
thoughtfully.  "  And  you  say,  Aunt  Lucy,  that  he  guess- 
ed— and  she  knew  nothing  ?  Yes ! : —  I  was  certain  he 
guessed." 

"But  she  knows  now,"  said  Lady  Lucy;  "and,  of 
course,  we  must  all  be  very  sorry  for  her." 

"Oh,  of  course!"  said  Isabel.  "But  she  will  soon 
get  over  it.  You  won't  find  it  will  do  her  any  harm. 
People  will  make  her  a  heroine." 

"  I  should  advise  her  not  to  go  about  with  that  cousin," 
said  Alicia,  softly. 

"The  girl  who  told  you?" 

"She  was  an  outsider!  She  told  me,  evidently,  to 
spite  her  cousin,  who  seemed  not  to  have  paid  her  enough 
attention,  and  then  wanted  me  to  swear  secrecy." 

"  Well,  if  her  mother  was  a  sister  of  Juliet  Sparling, 
you  can't  expect  much,  can  you  ?  What  a  mercy  it  has 
all  come  out  so  soon!  The  mess  would  have  been  in- 
18  265 


The    Testing    of  Diana   Mallory 

finitely  greater  if  the  engagement  had  gone  on  a  few 
weeks." 

"My  dear,"  said  her  mother,  gravely,  "we  must  not 
reckon  upon  Oliver's  yielding  to  our  persuasions." 

Isabel  smiled  and  shrugged  her  shoulders.  Oliver 
condemn  himself  to  the  simple  life! — to  the  forfeiture  of 
half  a  million  of  money — for  the  sake  of  the  beaux  yeux 
of  Diana  Mallory!  Oliver,  who  had  never  faced  any 
hardship  or  gone  without  any  luxury  in  his  life! 

Alicia  said  nothing;  but  the  alertness  of  her  brilliant 
eyes  showed  the  activity  of  the  brain  behind  them. 
While  Mrs.  Fotheringham  went  off  to  committees,  Miss 
Drake  spent  the  rest  of  the  day  in  ministering  to  Lady 
Lucy,  who  found  her  company,  her  gossip  about  Beech- 
cote,  her  sympathetic  yet  restrained  attitude  toward  the 
whole  matter,  quite  invaluable.  But,  in  spite  of  these 
aids,  the  hours  of  waiting  and  suspense  passed  heavily, 
and  Alicia  said  to  herself  that  Cousin  Lucy  was  beginning 
to  look  frail. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

OWING  to  the  scantiness  of  Sunday  trains,  Marsham 
did  not  arrive  at  Beechcote  village  till  between  nine 
and  ten  at  night.  He  left  his  bag  at  the  village  inn,  tried 
to  ignore  the  scarcely  concealed  astonishment  with  which 
the  well-known  master — or  reputed  master — of  Tallyn 
was  received  within  its  extremely  modest  walls,  and 
walked  up  to  the  manor-house.  There  he  had  a  short 
conversation  with  Mrs.  Colwood,  who  did  not  propose 
to  tell  Diana  of  his  arrival  till  the  morning. 

"She  does  not  know  that  I  wrote  to  you,"  said  the 
little  lady,  in  her  pale  distress.  "  She  wrote  to  you  her- 
self this  evening.  I  hope  I  have  not  done  wrong." 

Marsham  reassured  her,  and  they  had  a  melancholy 
consultation.  Diana,  it  seemed,  had  insisted  on  getting 
up  that  day  as  usual.  She  had  tottered  across  to  her 
sitting-room  and  had  spent  the  day  there  alone,  writing 
a  few  letters,  or  sitting  motionless  in  her  chair  for  hours 
together.  She  had  scarcely  eaten,  and  Mrs.  Colwood 
was  sure  she  had  not  slept  at  all  since  the  shock.  It  was 
to  be  hoped  that  out  of  sheer  fatigue  she  might  sleep, 
on  this,  the  second  night.  But  it  was  essential  there 
should  be  no  fresh  excitement,  such  as  the  knowledge 
of  Marsham's  arrival  would  certainly  arouse. 

Mrs.  Colwood  could  hardly  bring  herself  to  speak  of 
Fanny  Merton.  She  was,  of  course,  still  in  the  house — 
sulking — and  inclined  to  blame  everybody,  her  dead  uncle 

267 


The  Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

in  particular,  rather  than  herself.  But,  mercifully,  she 
was  departing  early  on  the  Monday  morning — to  some 
friends  in  London. 

"  If  you  come  after  breakfast  you  will  find  Miss  Mallory 
alone.  I  will  tell  her  first  thing  that  you  are  here." 

Marsham  assented,  and  got  up  to  take  his  leave.  In- 
voluntarily he  looked  round  the  drawing-room  where 
he  had  first  seen  Diana  the  day  before.  Then  it  was 
flooded  by  spring  sunshine — not  more  radiant  than  her 
face.  Now  a  solitary  lamp  made  a  faint  spot  of  light 
amid  the  shadows  of  the  panelled  walls.  He  and  Mrs. 
Colwood  spoke  almost  in  whispers.  The  old  house, 
generally  so  winning  and  sympathetic,  seemed  to  hold 
itself  silent  and  aloof — as  though  in  this  touch  of  calam- 
ity the  living  were  no  longer  its  master  and  the  dead 
generations  woke.  And,  up-stairs,  Diana  lay  perhaps  in 
her  white  bed,  miserable  and  alone,  not  knowing  that  he 
was  there,  within  a  few  yards  of  her. 

Mrs.  Colwood  noiselessly  opened  a  garden  door  and 
so  dismissed  him.  It  was  moonlight  outside,  and  instead 
of  returning  to  the  inn  he  took  the  road  up  the  hill  to 
the  crest  of  the  encircling  down.  Diverging  a  little  to  the 
left,  he  found  himself  on  the  open  hill-side,  at  a  point 
commanding  the  village  and  Beechcote  itself,  ringed  by 
its  ancient  woods.  In  the  village  two  dim  lights,  far  apart, 
were  visible ;  lights,  he  thought,  of  sickness  or  of  birth  ? — 
for  the  poor  sleep  early.  One  of  the  Beechcote  windows 
shone  with  a  dim  illumination.  Was  she  there,  and 
sleepless?  The  sky  was  full  of  light;  the  blanched  chalk 
down  on  which  he  stood  ran  northward  in  a  shining 
curve,  bare  in  the  moon;  but  in  the  hollow  below,  and  on 
the  horizon,  the  dark  huddled  woods  kept  watch,  guard- 
ing the  secrets  of  night.  The  owls  were  calling  in  the 

268 


The   Testing    of  Diana   Mallorg 

trees  behind  him— some  in  faint  prolonged  cry,  one  in  a 
sharp  shrieking  note.  And  at  whiles  a  train  rushed  upon 
the  ear,  held  it,  and  died  away;  or  a  breeze  crept  among 
the  dead  beech  leaves  at  his  feet.  Otherwise  not  a  sound 
or  show  of  life;  Marsham  was  alone  with  night  and  him- 
self. 

Twenty-four  hours — little  more— since  on  that  same 
hill-side  he  had  held  Diana  in  his  arms  in  the  first 
rapture  of  love.  What  was  it  that  had  changed  ?  How 
was  it — for  he  was  frank  with  himself — that  the  love 
which  had  been  then  the  top  and  completion  of  his  life, 
the  angel  of  all  good-fortune  within  and  without,  had 
become  now,  to  some  extent,  a  burden  to  be  borne,  an 
obligation  to  be  met  ? 

Certainly,  he  loved  her  well.  But  she  came  to  him 
now,  bringing  as  her  marriage  portion,  not  easy  joy  and 
success,  the  full  years  of  prosperity  and  ambition,  but 
poverty,  effort,  a  certain  measure  of  disgrace,  and  the 
perpetual  presence  of  a  ghastly  and  heart-breaking 
memory.  He  shrank  from  this  last  in  a  positive  and 
sharp  impatience.  Why  should  Juliet  Sparling's  crime 
affect  him? — depress  the  vigor  and  cheerfulness  of  his 
life? 

As  to  the  effort  before  him,  he  felt  toward  it  as  a  man 
of  weak  unpractised  muscle  who  endeavors  with  strain- 
ing to  raise  a  physical  weight.  He  would  make  the  effort, 
but  it  would  tax  his  whole  strength.  As  he  strolled  along 
the  down,  dismally  smoking  and  pondering,  he  made 
himself  contemplate  the  then  and  now — taking  stock,  as  it 
were,  of  his  life.  In  this  truth-compelling  darkness,  apart 
from  the  stimulus  of  his  mother's  tyranny,  he  felt 
himself  to  be  two  men:  one  in  love  with  Diana,  the 
pther  in  love  with  success  and  political  ambition,  and 

269 


The  Testing    of   Diana   Mallorij 

money  as  the  agent  and  servant  of  both.  He  had  never 
for  one  moment  envisaged  the  first  love — Diana — as  the 
alternative  to,  or  substitute  for  the  second  love — success. 
As  he  had  conceived  her  up  to  twenty-four  hours  before, 
Diana  was  to  be,  indeed,  one  of  the  chief  elements  and 
ministers  of  success.  In  winning  her,  he  was,  in  fact,  to 
make  the  best  of  both  worlds.  A  certain  cool  analytic 
gift  that  he  possessed  put  all  this  plainly  before  him. 
And  now  it  must  be  a  choice  between  Diana  and  all 
those  other  desirable  things. 

Take  the  poverty  first.  What  would  it  amount  to? 
He  knew  approximately  what  was  Diana's  fortune.  He 
had  meant — with  easy  generosity — to  leave  it  all  in  her 
hands,  to  do  what  she  would  with.  Now,  until  his 
mother  came  to  her  senses,  they  must  chiefly  depend 
upon  it.  What  could  he  add  to  it  ?  He  had  been  called 
to  the  Bar,  but  had  never  practised.  Directorships  no 
doubt,  he  might  get,  like  other  men;  though  not  so  easily 
now,  if  it  was  to  be  known  that  his  mother  meant  to 
make  a  pauper  of  him.  And  once  a  man  whom  he  had 
met  in  political  life,  who  was  no  doubt  ignorant  of  his 
private  circumstances,  had  sounded  him  as  to  whether 
he  would  become  the  London  correspondent  of  a  great 
American  paper.  He  had  laughed  then,  good-humoredly, 
at  the  proposal.  Perhaps  the  thing  might  still  be  open. 
It  would  mean  a  few  extra  hundreds. 

He  laughed  again  as  he  thought  of  it,  but  not  good- 
.humoredly.  The  whole  thing  was  so  monstrous!  His 
mother  had  close  on  twenty  thousand  a  year!  For  all 
her  puritanical  training  she  liked  luxury — of  a  certain 
kind — and  had  brought  up  her  son  in  it.  Marsham  had 
never  gambled  or  speculated  or  raced.  It  was  part  of  his 
democratic  creed  and  his  Quaker  ancestry  to  despise  such 

2JO 


The    Testing   of   Diana    Mallory 

modes  of  wasting  money,  and  to  be  scornful  of  the  men 
who  indulged  in  them.  But  the  best  of  housing,  service, 
and  clothes;  the  best  shooting,  whether  in  England  or 
Scotland;  the  best  golfing,  fishing,  and  travelling:  all 
these  had  come  to  him  year  after  year  since  his  boy- 
hood, without  question.  His  mother,  of  course,  had  pro- 
vided the  majority  of  them,  for  his  own  small  income 
and  his  allowance  from  her  were  absorbed  by  his  personal 
expenses,  his  Parliamentary  life,  and  the  subscriptions  to 
the  party,  which — in  addition  to  his  mother's — made  him, 
as  he  was  well  aware,  a  person  of  importance  in  its  ranks, 
quite  apart  from  his  record  in  the  House. 

Now  all  that  must  be  given  up.  He  would  be  reduced 
to  an  income — including  what  he  imagined  to  be  Diana's 
— of  less  than  half  his  personal  spending  hitherto;  and 
those  vast  perspectives  implied  in  the  inheritance  at  his 
mother's  death  of  his  father's  half  million  must  also  be 
renounced. 

No  doubt  he  could  just  maintain  himself  in  Parlia- 
ment. But  everything — judged  by  the  standards  he  had 
been  brought  up  in — would  be  difficult  where  every- 
thing till  now  had  been  ease. 

He  knew  his  mother  too  well  to  doubt  her  stubborn- 
ness, and  his  feeling  was  bitter,  indeed.  Bitter,  too, 
against  his  father,  who  had  left  him  in  this  plight.  Why 
had  his  father  distrusted  and  wronged  him  so  ?  He  re- 
called with  discomfort  certain  collisions  of  his  youth; 
certain  disappointments  at  school  and  college  he  had 
inflicted  on  his  father's  ambition;  certain  lectures  and 
gibes  from  that  strong  mouth,  in  his  early  manhood. 
Absurd !  If  his  father  had  had  to  do  with  a  really  spend- 
thrift and  unsatisfactory  son,  there  might  have  been  some 
sense  in  it.  But  for  these  trifles— these  suspicions— these 

27! 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

foolish  notions  of  a  doctrinaire — to  inflict  this  stigma 
and  this  yoke  on  him  all  his  days! 

Suddenly  his  wanderings  along  the  moon-lit  hill  came 
to  a  stand-still.  For  he  recognized  the  hollow  in  the 
chalk — the  gnarled  thorn — the  wide  outlook.  He  stood 
gazing  about  him — a  shamed  lover;  conscious  of  a  dozen 
contradictory  feelings.  Beautiful  and  tender  Diana! — 
"Stick  to  her,  Oliver! — she  is  worth  it!"  Chide's  eager 
and  peremptory  tone  smote  on  the  inward  ear.  Of 
course  he  would  stick  to  her.  The  only  thing  which  it 
gave  him  any  pleasure  to  remember  in  this  nightmare 
of  a  day  was  his  own  answer  to  Ferrier's  suggestion  that 
Diana  might  release  him  :  "  Do  you  imagine  I  could  be 
such  a  hound  as  to  let  her?"  As  he  said  it,  he  had  been 
conscious  that  the  words  rang  well;  that  he  had  struck 
the  right  attitude,  and  done  the  right  thing.  Of  course 
he  had  done  the  right  thing!  What  would  he,  or  any 
other  decent  person,  have  thought  of  a  man  who  could 
draw  back  from  his  word,  for  such  a  cause  ? 

No ! — he  resigned  himself.  He  would  do  nothing  mean 
and  ungentlemanly.  A  policy  of  waiting  and  diplomacy 
should  be  tried.  Ferrier  might  be  of  some  use.  But,  if 
nothing  availed,  he  must  marry  and  make  the  best  of  it. 
He  wondered  to  what  charitable  societies  his  mother 
would  leave  her  money! 

Slowly  he  strolled  back  along  the  hill.  That  dim 
light,  high  up  on  the  shrouded  walls  of  Beechcote,  seemed 
to  go  with  him,  softly,  insistently  reminding  him  of 
Diana.  The  thought  of  her  moved  him  deeply.  He 
longed  to  have  her  in  his  arms,  to  comfort  her,  to  feel  her 
dependent  on  him  for  the  recovery  of  joy  and  vitality. 
It  was  only  by  an  obstinate  and  eager  dwelling  upon 
her  sweetness  and  charm  that  he  could  protect  himself 

272 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

against  the  rise  of  an  invading  wave  of  repugnance  and 
depression;  the  same  repugnance,  the  same  instinctive 
longing  to  escape,  which  he  had  always  felt,  as  boy  or 
man,  in  the  presence  of  sickness,  or  death,  or  mourning. 

Marsham  had  been  long  asleep  in  his  queer  little  room 
at  "The  Green  Man."  The  last  lights  were  out  in  the 
village,  and  the  moon  had  set.  Diana  stole  out  of  bed; 
Muriel  must  not  hear  her,  Muriel  whose  eyes  were  already 
so  tired  and  tear- worn  with  another's  grief.  She  went  to 
the  window,  and,  throwing  a  shawl  over  her,  she  knelt 
there,  looking  out.  She  was  dimly  conscious  of  stars, 
of  the  hill,  the  woods;  what  she  really  saw  was  a  prison 
room  as  she  was  able  to  imagine  it,  and  her  mother  lying 
there — her  young  mother — only  four  years  older  than  she, 
Diana,  was  now.  Or  again  she  saw  the  court  of  law — the 
judge  in  the  black  cap — and  her  mother  looking  up. 
Fanny  had  said  she  was  small  and  slight — with  dark 
hair. 

The  strange  frozen  horror  of  it  made  tears — or  sleep — 
or  rest — impossible.  She  did  not  think  much  of  Mar- 
sham;  she  could  hardly  remember  what  she  had  written 
to  him.  Love  was  only  another  anguish.  Nor  could  it 
protect  her  from  the  images  which  pursued  her.  The 
only  thought  which  seemed  to  soothe  the  torture  of 
imagination  was  the  thought  stamped  on  her  brain  tissue 
by  the  long  inheritance  of  centuries — the  thought  of 
Christ  on  Calvary.  "  My  God,  my  God,  why  hast  thou 
forsaken  me?"  The  words  repeated  themselves  again 
and  again.  She  did  not  pray  in  words.  But  her  agony 
crept  to  the  foot  of  what  has  become  through  the  action 
and  interaction  of  two  thousand  years,  the  typical  and 
representative  agony  of  the  world,  and,  clinging  there, 

273 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mai  lory 

made  wild  appeal,  like  the  generations  before  her,  to  a 
God  in  whose  hand  lie  the  creatures  of  His  will. 


"Mrs.  Colwood  said  I  might  come  and  say  good-bye 
to  you,"  said  Fanny  Merton,  holding  her  head  high. 

She  stood  on  the  threshold  of  Diana's  little  sitting- 
room,  looking  in.  There  was  an  injured  pride  in  her 
bearing,  balanced  by  a  certain  anxiety  which  seemed  to 
keep  it  within  bounds. 

"  Please  come  in,"  said  Diana. 

She  rose  with  difficulty  from  the  table  where  she  was 
forcing  herself  to  write  a  letter.  Had  she  followed  her 
own  will  she  would  have  been  up  at  her  usual  time  and 
down  to  breakfast.  But  she  had  turned  faint  while 
dressing,  and  Mrs.  Colwood  had  persuaded  her  to  let 
some  tea  be  brought  up-stairs. 

Fanny  came  in,  half  closing  the  door. 

"Well,  I'm  off,"  she  said,  flushing.  "I  dare  say  you 
won't  want  to  see  me  again." 

Diana  came  feebly  forward,  clinging  to  the  chairs. 

"It  wasn't  your  fault.  I  must  have  known — some 
time." 

Fanny  looked  at  her  uneasily. 

"  Well,  of  course,  that's  true.  But  I  dare  say  I — well 
I'm  no  good  at  beating  about  the  bush,  never  was!  And 
I  was  in  a  temper,  too — that  was  at  the  bottom  of  it." 

Diana  made  no  reply.  Her  eyes,  magnified  by  ex- 
haustion and  pallor,  seemed  to  be  keeping  a  pitiful  shrink- 
ing watch  lest  she  should  be  hurt  again — past  bearing. 
It  was  like  the  shrinking  of  a  child  that  has  been  tort- 
ured, from  its  tormentor. 

"You  are  going  to  London?" 

"Yes.  You  remember  those  Devonshire  people  I 
274 


The    Testing    of   Diana   Mallorg 

went  to  stay  with  ?  One  of  the  girls  is  up  in  London 
with  her  aunt.  I'm  going  to  board  with  them  a  bit." 

"  My  lawyers  will  send  the  thousand  pounds  to  Aunt 
Merton  when  they  have  arranged  for  it,"  said  Diana, 
quietly.  "Is  that  what  you  wish?" 

A  look  of  relief  she  could  not  conceal  slipped  into 
Fanny's  countenance. 

"You're  going  to  give  it  us  — after  all?"  she  said, 
stumbling  over  the  words. 

"  I  promised  to  give  it  you." 

Fanny  fidgeted,  but  even  her  perceptions  told  her 
that  further  thanks  would  be  out  of  place. 

"  Mother  '11  write  to  you,  of  course.  And  you'd  better 
send  fifty  pounds  of  it  to  me.  I  can't  go  home  under 
three  months,  and  I  shall  run  short." 

"Very  well,"  said  Diana. 

"  Good-bye,"  said  Fanny,  coming  a  little  nearer.  Then 
she  looked  round  her,  with  a  first  genuine  impulse  of 
something  like  remorse — if  the  word  is  not  too  strong. 
It  was  rather,  perhaps,  a  consciousness  of  having  man- 
aged her  opportunities  extremely  badly.  "  I'm  sorry  you 
didn't  like  me. "  she  said,  abruptly,  "and  I  didn't  mean 
to  be  nasty." 

"  Good-bye. ' '  Diana  held  out  her  hand ;  yet  trembling 
involuntarily  as  she  did  so.  Fanny  broke  out : 

"  Diana,  why  do  you  look  like  that  ?  It's  all  so  long 
ago — you  can't  do  anything — you  ought  to  try  and  for- 
get it." 

"No,  I  can't  do  anything,"  said  Diana,  withdrawing 
her  right  hand  from  her  cousin,  and  clasping  both  on  her 
breast.  "  I  can  only — " 

But  the  word  died  on  her  lips;  she  turned  abruptly 
away,  adding,  hurriedly,  in  another  tone :  "  If  you  ever 

275 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

want  anything,  you  know  we're  always  here — Mrs.  Col- 
wood  and  I.  Please  give  us  your  address." 

"Thanks."  Fanny  retreated;  but  could  not  forbear, 
as  she  reached  the  door,  from  letting  loose  the  thought 
which  burned  her  inner  mind.  She  turned  round  de- 
liberately. "Mr.  Marsham  '11  cheer  you  up,  Diana! — 
you'll  see.  Of  course,  he'll  behave  like  a  gentleman.  It 
won't  make  a  bit  of  difference  to  you.  I'll  just  ask  Mrs. 
Colwood  to  tell  me  when  it's  all  fixed  up." 

Diana  said  nothing.  She  was  hanging  over  the  fire, 
and  her  face  was  hidden.  Fanny  waited  a  moment,  then 
opened  the  door  and  went. 

As  soon  as  the  carriage  conveying  Miss  Merton  to  the 
station  had  safely  driven  off,  Mrs.  Colwood,  who,  in  no 
conventional  sense,  had  been  speeding  the  parting  guest, 
ran  up-stairs  again  to  Diana's  room. 

"She's  gone?"  said  Diana,  faintly.  She  was  standing 
by  the  window.  As  she  spoke  the  carriage  came  into 
view  at  a  bend  of  the  drive  and  disappeared  into  the 
trees  beyond.  Mrs.  Colwood  saw  her  shiver. 

"Did  she  leave  you  her  address?" 

"Yes.  Don't  think  any  more  about  her.  I  have 
something  to  tell  you." 

Diana's  painful  start  was  the  measure  of  her  state. 
Muriel  Colwood  put  her  arms  tenderly  round  the  slight 
form. 

"Mr.  Marsham  will  be  here  directly.  He  came  last 
night — too  late — I  would  not  let  him  see  you.  Ah!" 
She  released  Diana,  and  made  a  rapid  step  to  the  win- 
dow. "There  he  is! — coming  by  the  fields." 

Diana  sat  down,  as  though  her  limbs  trembled  under 
her. 

276 


The   Testing    of   Diana   Mallorg 

"Did  you  send  for  him?" 

"  Yes.     You  forgive  me  c ' 

"Then — he  hasn't  got  my  letter." 

She  said  it  without  looking  up,  as  though  to  herself. 

Mrs.  Colwood  knelt  down  beside  her. 

"  It  is  right  he  should  be  here,"  she  said,  with  energy, 
almost  with  command;  "it  is  the  right,  natural  thing." 

Diana  stooped,  mechanically,  and  kissed  her;  then 
sprang  up,  quivering,  the  color  rushing  into  her  cheeks. 
"Why,  he  mayn't  even  know!"  She  threw  a  piteous 
look  at  her  companion. 

"He  does  know,  dear — he  does  know." 

Diana  composed  herself.  She  lifted  her  hands  to  a  tress 
of  hair  that  was  unfastened,  and  put  it  in  its  place. 
Instinctively  she  straightened  her  belt,  her  white  collar. 
Mrs.  Colwood  noticed  that  she  was  in  black  again,  in  one 
of  the  dresses  of  her  mourning. 

When  Marsham  turned,  at  the  sound  of  the  latch,  to 
see  Diana  coming  in,  all  the  man's  secret  calculations 
and  revolts  were  for  the  moment  scattered  and  drowned 
in  sheer  pity  and  dismay.  In  a  few  short  hours  can 
grief  so  work  on  youth  ?  He  ran  to  her,  but  she  held  up 
a  hand  which  arrested  him  half-way.  Then  she  closed 
the  door,  but  still  stood  near  it,  as  though  she  feared  to 
move,  or  speak,  looking  at  him  with  her  appealing  eyes. 

"Oliver!" 

He  held  out  his  hands. 

"My  poor,  poor  darling!" 

She  gave  a  little  cry,  as  though  some  tension  broke. 
Her  lips  almost  smiled;  but  she  held  him  away  from 
her. 

"You're  not — not  ashamed  of  me?" 

277 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallortj 

His  protests  were  the  natural,  the  inevitable  protests 
that  any  man  with  red  blood  in  his  veins  must  need  have 
uttered,  brought  face  to  face  with  so  much  sorrow  and 
so  much  beauty.  She  let  him  make  them,  while  her 
left  hand  gently  stroked  and  caressed  his  right  hand 
which  held  hers;  yet  all  the  time  resolutely  turning  her 
face  and  her  soft  breast  away,  as  though  she  dreaded  to 
be  kissed,  to  lose  will  and  identity  in  the  mere  delight  of 
his  touch.  And  he  felt,  too,  in  some  strange  way,  as 
though  the  blow  that  had  fallen  upon  her  had  placed 
her  at  a  distance  from  him;  not  disgraced — but  con- 
secrate. 

"Will  you  please  sit  down  and  let  us  talk?"  she  said, 
after  a  moment,  withdrawing  herself. 

She  pushed  a  chair  forward,  and  sat  down  herself. 
The  tears  were  in  her  eyes,  but  she  brushed  them  away 
unconsciously. 

"If  papa  had  told  me!"  she  said,  in  a  low  voice — "if 
he  had  only  told  me — before  he  died." 

"It  was  out  of  love,"  said  Marsham;  "but  yes — it 
would  have  been  wiser — kinder — to  have  spoken." 

She  started. 

"Oh  no — not  that.  But  we  might  have  sorrowed — 
together.  And  he  was  always  alone — he  bore  it  all  alone 
— even  when  he  was  dying." 

"But  you,  dearest,  shall  not  bear  it  alone!"  cried 
Marsham,  finding  her  hand  again  and  kissing  it.  "  My 
first  task  shall  be  to  comfort  you — to  make  you  forget." 

He  thought  she  winced  at  the  word  "  forget." 

"When  did  you  first  guess — or  know?" 

He  hesitated — then  thought  it  best  to  tell  the  truth. 

"When  we  were  in  the  lime-walk." 

"When  you  asked — her  name?  I  remember" — her 
278 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

voice  broke — "  how  you  wrung  my  hand !  And  you  never 
had  any  suspicion  before?" 

"  Never.  And  it  makes  no  difference,  Diana — to  you 
and  me — none.  I  want  you  to  understand  that  now — 
at  once." 

She  looked  at  him,  smiling  tremulously.  His  words 
became  him;  even  in  her  sorrow  her  eyes  delighted  in 
his  shrewd  thin  face;  in  the  fair  hair,  prematurely  touched 
with  gray,  and  lying  heavily  on  the  broad  brow;  in  the 
intelligence  and  distinction  of  his  whole  aspect. 

"  You  are  so  good  to  me — "  she  said,  with  a  little  sob. 
"No— no! — please,  dear  Oliver! — we  have  so  much  to 
talk  of."  And  again  she  prevented  him  from  taking  her 
in  his  arms.  "Tell  me" — she  laid  her  hand  on  his 
persuasively :  "  Sir  James,  of  course,  knew  from  the  be- 
ginning?" 

"  Yes — from  the  beginning — that  first  night  at  Tallyn. 
He  is  coming  down  this  afternoon,  dearest.  He  knew 
you  would  want  to  see  him.  But  it  may  not  be  till  late." 

"  After  all,  I  know  so  little  yet,"  she  said,  bewildered. 
"  Only — only  what  Fanny  told  me." 

"  What  made  her  tell  you  ?" 

"  She  was  angry  with  me — I  forget  about  what.  I  did 
not  understand  at  first  what  she  was  saying.  Oliver" — 
she  grasped  his  hand  tightly,  while  the  lids  dropped  over 
the  eyes,  as  though  she  would  shut  out  even  his  face  as 
she  asked  her  question  —  "is  it  true  that  —  that  —  the 
death  sentence — " 

"Yes,"  said  Marsham,  reluctantly.  "But  it  was  at 
once  commuted.  And  three  weeks  after  the  sentence  she 
was  released.  She  lived,  Sir  James  tells  me,  nearly  two 
months  after  your  father  brought  her  home." 

"  I  wrote  last  night  to  the  lawyers" — Diana  breathed 

279 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

it  almost  in  a  whisper.  "  I  am  sure  there  is  a  letter  for 
me — I  am  sure  papa  wrote." 

"Promise  me  one  thing!"  said  Marsham.  "If  they 
send  you  newspapers — for  my  sake,  don't  read  them. 
Sir  James  will  tell  you,  this  afternoon,  things  the  public 
have  never  known — facts  which  would  certainly  have 
altered  the  verdict  if  the  jury  had  known.  Your  poor 
mother  struck  the  blow  in  what  was  practically  an  im- 
pulse of  self-defence,  and  the  evidence  which  mainly 
convicted  her  was  perjured  evidence,  as  the  liar  who  gave 
it  confessed  years  afterward.  Sir  James  will  tell  you 
that.  He  has  the  confession." 

Her  face  relaxed,  her  mouth  trembled  violently. 

"Oh,  Oliver! — Oliver!"  She  was  unable  to  bear  the 
relief  his  words  brought  her :  she  broke  down  under  it. 

He  caught  her  in  his  arms  at  last,  and  she  gave  way 
— she  let  herself  be  weak — and  woman.  Clinging  to  him 
with  all  the  pure  passion  of  a  woman  and  all  the  trust  of 
a  child,  she  felt  his  kisses  on  her  cheek,  and  her  deep 
sobs  shook  her  upon  his  breast.  Marsham's  being  was 
stirred  to  its  depths.  He  gave  her  the  best  he  had  to 
give;  and  in  that  moment  of  mortal  appeal  on  her  side 
and  desperate  pity  on  his,  their  natures  met  in  that  fusion 
of  spirit  and  desire  wherewith  love  can  lend  even  tragedy 
and  pain  to  its  own  uses. 

And  yet — and  yet! — was  it  in  that  very  moment  that 
feeling — on  the  man's  side — "o'erleaped  itself,  and  fell 
on  the  other"  ?  When  they  resumed  conversation,  Mar- 
sham's  tacit  expectation  was  that  Diana  would  now  show 
herself  comforted;  that,  sure  of  him  and  of  his  affection, 
she  would  now  be  ready  to  put  the  tragic  past  aside;  to 
think  first  and  foremost  of  her  own  present  life  and  his, 

280 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

and  face  the  future  cheerfully.  A  misunderstanding 
arose  between  them,  indeed,  which  is,  perhaps,  one  of  the 
typical  misunderstandings  between  men  and  women. 
The  man,  impatient  of  painful  thoughts  and  recollections, 
eager  to  be  quit  of  them  as  weakening  and  unprofitable, 
determined  to  silence  them  by  the  pleasant  clamor  of  his 
own  ambitions  and  desires ;  the  woman,  priestess  of  the 
past,  clinging  to  all  the  pieties  of  memory,  in  terror  lest 
she  forget  the  dead,  feeling  it  a  disloyalty  even  to  draw 
the  dagger  from  the  wound — between  these  two  figures 
and  dispositions  there  is  a  deep  and  natural  antag- 
onism. 

It  showed  itself  rapidly  in  the  case  of  Marsham  and 
Diana ;  for  their  moment  of  high  feeling  was  no  sooner 
over,  and  she  sitting  quietly  again,  her  hand  in  his,  the 
blinding  tears  dashed  away,  than  Marsham's  mind  flew 
inevitably  to  his  own  great  sacrifice.  She  must  be  com- 
forted, indeed,  poor  child!  yet  he  could  not  but  feel  that 
he,  too,  deserved  consolation,  and  that  his  own  most 
actual  plight  was  no  less  worthy  of  her  thoughts  than 
the  ghastly  details  of  a  tragedy  twenty  years  old. 

Yet  she  seemed  to  have  forgotten  Lady  Lucy! — to 
have  no  inkling  of  the  real  situation.  And  he  could  find 
no  way  in  which  to  break  it. 

For,  in  little  broken  sentences  of  horror  and  recollec- 
tion, she  kept  going  back  to  her  mother's  story — her 
father's  silence  and  suffering.  It  was  as  though  her  mind 
could  not  disentangle  itself  from  the  load  which  had  been 
flung  upon  it — could  not  recover  its  healthiness  of  action 
amid  the  phantom  sights  and  sounds  which  beset  imag- 
ination. Again  and  again  she  must  ask  him  for  details 
— and  shrink  from  the  answers;  must  hide  her  eyes  with 
the  little  moan  that  wrung  his  heart;  and  break  out  in 
19  281 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

ejaculations,  as  though  of  bewilderment,  under  a  revela* 
tion  so  singular  and  so  terrible. 

It  was  to  be  expected,  of  course ;  he  could  only  hope  it 
would  soon  pass.  Secretly,  after  a  time,  he  was  repelled 
and  wearied.  He  answered  her  with  the  same  tender 
words,  he  tried  to  be  all  kindness;  but  more  perfunc- 
torily. The  oneness  of  that  supreme  moment  vanished 
and  did  not  return. 

Meanwhile,  Diana's  perceptions,  stunned  by  the  one 
overmastering  thought,  gave  her  no  warning.  And,  in 
truth,  if  Marsham  could  have  understood,  the  process  of 
mental  recovery  was  set  going  in  her  by  just  this  freedom 
of  utterance  to  the  man  she  loved — these  words  and  looks 
and  tears — that  brought  ease  after  the  dumb  horror  of 
the  first  hours. 

At  last  he  made  an  effort,  hiding  the  nascent  im- 
patience in  a  caress. 

"  If  I  could  only  persuade  you  not  to  dwell  upon  it  too 
persistently — to  put  it  from  your  thoughts  as  soon  and 
as  much  as  you  can!  Dear,  we  shall  have  our  own 
anxieties!" 

She  looked  up  with  a  sudden  start. 

"My  mother,"  he  said,  reluctantly,  "may  give  us 
trouble." 

The  color  rushed  into  Diana's  cheeks,  and  ebbed  with 
equal  suddenness. 

"Lady  Lucy!  Oh! — how  could  I  forget?  Oliver! — 
she  thinks — I  am  not  fit!" 

And  in  her  eyes  he  saw  for  the  first  time  the  self-abase- 
ment he  had  dreaded,  yet  perhaps  expected,  to  see  there 
before.  For  in  her  first  question  to  him  there  had  been 
no  real  doubt  of  him;  it  had  been  the  natural  humility  of 
wounded  love  that  cries  out,  expecting  the  reply  that  no 

282 


The    Testing    of   Diana    Mallorg 

power  on  earth  could  check  itself  from  giving  were  the 
case  reversed. 

"Dearest!  you  know  my  mother's  bringing  up:  her 
Quaker  training,  and  her  rather  stern  ideas.  We  shall 
persuade  her — in  time." 

"In  time?     And  now — she — she  forbids  it?" 

Her  voice  faltered.  And  yet,  unconsciously,  she  had 
drawn  herself  a  little  together  and  away. 

Marsham  began  to  give  a  somewhat  confused  and 
yet  guarded  account  of  his  mother's  state  of  mind,  en- 
deavoring to  prepare  her  for  the  letter  which  might  ar- 
rive on  the  morrow.  He  got  up  and  moved  about  the 
room  as  he  spoke,  while  Diana  sat,  looking  at  him,  her 
lips  trembling  from  time  to  time.  Presently  he  men- 
tioned Ferrier's  name,  and  Diana  started. 

"  Does  he  think  it  would  do  you  harm — that  you  ought 
to  give  me  up  ?" 

"  Not  he !  And  if  anybody  can  make  my  mother  hear 
reason,  it  will  be  Ferrier." 

"Lady  Lucy  believes  it  would  injure  you  in  Parlia- 
ment?" faltered  Diana. 

"  No,  I  don't  believe  she  does.     No  sane  person  could." 

"Then  it's  because — of  the  disgrace?  Oliver! — per- 
haps— you  ought  to  give  me  up?" 

She  breathed  quick.  It  stabbed  him  to  see  the  flush 
in  her  cheeks  contending  with  the  misery  in  her  eyes. 
She  could  not  pose,  or  play  a  part.  What  she  could  not 
hide  from  him  was  just  the  conflict  between  her  love 
and  her  new-born  shame.  Before  that  scene  on  the  hill 
there  would  have  been  her  girlish  dignity  also  to  reckon 
with.  But  the  greater  had  swallowed  up  the  less;  and 
from  her  own  love— in  innocent  and  simple  faith— she 

imagined  his. 

283 


The  Testing    of   Diana   Mallory 

So  that  when  she  spoke  of  his  giving  her  up,  it  was 
not  her  pride  that  spoke,  but  only  and  truly  her  fear  of 
doing  him  a  hurt — by  which  she  meant  a  hurt  in  public 
estimation  or  repute.  The  whole  business  side  of  the 
matter  was  unknown  to  her.  She  had  never  speculated 
on  his  circumstances,  and  she  was  constitutionally  and 
rather  proudly  indifferent  to  questions  of  money.  Vague- 
ly, of  course,  she  knew  that  the  Marshams  were  rich  and 
that  Tallyn  was  Lady  Lucy's.  Beyond,  she  had  never 
inquired. 

This  absence  of  all  self-love  in  her  attitude — together 
with  her  complete  ignorance  of  the  calculation  in  which 
she  was  involved — touched  him  sharply.  It  kept  him 
silent  about  the  money ;  it  seemed  impossible  to  speak  of 
it.  And  yet  all  the  time  the  thought  of  it  clamored — • 
perhaps  increasingly — in  his  own  mind. 

He  told  her  that  they  must  stand  firm — that  she  must 
be  patient — that  Ferrier  would  work  for  them — and  Lady 
Lucy  would  come  round.  And  she,  loving  him  more  and 
more  with  every  word,  seeing  in  him  a  god  of  consolation 
and  of  chivalry,  trusted  him  wholly.  It  was  characteristic 
of  her  that  she  did  not  attempt  heroics  for  the  heroics' 
sake ;  there  was  no  idea  of  renouncing  him  with  a  flourish 
of  trumpets.  He  said  he  loved  her,  and  she  believed  him. 
But  her  heart  went  on  its  knees  to  him  in  a  gratitude 
that  doubled  love,  even  in  the  midst  of  her  aching  be- 
wilderment and  pain. 

He  made  her  come  out  with  him  before  luncheon;  he 
talked  with  her  of  politics  and  their  future;  he  did  his 
best  to  scatter  the  nightmare  in  which  she  moved. 

But  after  awhile  he  felt  his  efforts  fail.  The  scenes 
that  held  her  mind  betrayed  themselves  in  her  recurrent 

284 


The   Testing    of   Diana   Mallorij 

pallor,  the  trembling  of  her  hand  in  his,  her  piteous, 
sudden  looks.  She  did  not  talk  of  her  mother,  but  he 
could  not  presently  rouse  her  to  talk  of  anything  else; 
she  sat  silent  in  her  chair,  gazing  before  her,  her  slender 
hands  on  her  knee,  dreaming  and  forlorn. 

Then  he  remembered,  and  with  involuntary  relief,  that 
he  must  get  back  to  town,  and  to  the  House,  for  an 
important  division.  He  told  her,  and  she  made  no 
protest.  Evidently  she  was  already  absorbed  in  the 
thought  of  Sir  James  Chide's  visit.  But  when  the  time 
came  for  him  to  go  she  let  herself  be  kissed,  and  then, 
as  he  was  moving  away,  she  caught  his  hand,  and  held 
it  wildly  to  her  lips. 

"Oh,  if  you  hadn't  come! — if  you  hadn't  come!"  Her 
tears  fell  on  the  hand. 

"But  I  did  come!"  he  said,  caressing  her.  "I  was 
here  last  night — did  Mrs.  Colwood  tell  you?  Afterward 
— in  the  dark — I  walked  up  to  the  hill,  only  to  look  down 
upon  this  house,  that  held  you." 

"  If  I  had  known, "  she  murmured,  on  his  breast,  "  I 
should  have  slept." 

He  went — in  exaltation;  overwhelmed  by  her  charm 
even  in  this  eclipse  of  grief,  and  by  the  perception  of  her 
passion. 

But  before  he  was  half-way  to  London  he  felt  that 
he  had  been  rather  foolish  and  quixotic  in  not  having 
told  her  simply  and  practically  what  his  mother's  op- 
position meant.  She  must  learn  it  some  day;  better 
from  him  than  others.  His  mother,  indeed,  might  tell 
her  in  the  letter  she  had  threatened  to  write.  But 
he  thought  not.  Nobody  was  more  loftily  secret  as 
to  business  affairs  than  Lady  Lucy;  money  might 
not  have  existed  for  the  rare  mention  she  made  of 

285 


The  Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

it.  No ;  she  would  base  her  opposition  on  other 
grounds. 

These  reflections  brought  him  back  to  earth,  and  to 
the  gloomy  pondering  of  the  situation.  Half  a  million ! 
— because  of  the  ill-doing  of  a  poor  neurotic  woman — 
twenty  years  ago! 

It  filled  him  with  a  curious  resentment  against  Juliet 
Sparling  herself,  which  left  him  still  more  out  of  sym- 
pathy with  Diana's  horror  and  grief.  It  must  really  be 
understood,  when  they  married,  that  Mrs.  Sparling's 
name  was  never  to  be  mentioned  between  them — that 
the  whole  grimy  business  was  buried  out  of  sight  forever. 

And  with  a  great  and  morbid  impatience  he  shook  the 
recollection  from  him.  The  bustle  of  Whitehall,  as  he 
drove  down  it,  was  like  wine  in  his  veins ;  the  crowd  and 
the  gossip  of  the  Central  Lobby,  as  he  pressed  his  way 
through  to  the  door  of  the  House  of  Commons,  had  never 
been  so  full  of  stimulus  or  savor.  In  this  agreeable,  ex- 
citing world  he  knew  his  place ;  the  relief  was  enormous ; 
and,  for  a  time,  Marsham  was  himself  again. 

Sir  James  Chide  came  in  the  late  afternoon;  and  in 
her  two  hours  with  him,  Diana  learned,  from  lips  that 
spared  her  all  they  could,  the  heart-breaking  story  of 
which  Fanny  had  given  her  but  the  crudest  outlines. 

The  full  story,  and  its  telling,  taxed  the  courage  both 
of  hearer  and  speaker.  Diana  bore  it,  as  it  seemed  to 
Sir  James,  with  the  piteous  simplicity  of  one  in  whose 
nature  grief  had  no  pretences  to  overcome.  The  iron 
entered  into  her  soul,  and  her  quick  imagination  made 
her  torment.  But  her  father  had  taught  her  lessons  of 
self-conquest,  and  in  this  first  testing  of  her  youth  she 
did  not  fail.  Sir  James  was  astonished  at  the  quiet  she 

286 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

was  able  to  maintain,  and  touched  to  the  heart  by  the 
suffering  she  could  not  conceal. 

Nothing  was  said  of  his  own  relation  to  her  mother's 
case ;  but  he  saw  that  she  understood  it,  and  their  hearts 
moved  together.  When  he  rose  to  take  his  leave  she 
held  his  hand  in  hers  with  such  a  look  in  her  eyes  as 
a  daughter  might  have  worn;  and  he,  with  an  emotion  to 
which  he  gave  little  outward  expression,  vowed  to  him- 
self that  henceforward  she  should  lack  no  fatherly  help 
or  counsel  that  he  could  give  her. 

He  gathered,  with  relief,  that  the  engagement  per- 
sisted, and  the  perception  led  him  to  praise  Marsham  in 
a  warm  Irish  way.  But  he  could  not  find  anything 
hopeful  to  say  of  Lady  Lucy.  "  If  you  only  hold  to  each 
other,  my  dear  young  lady,  things  will  come  right!" 
Diana  flushed  and  shrank  a  little,  and  he  felt — helplessly 
— that  the  battle  was  for  their  fighting,  and  not  his. 

Meanwhile,  as  he  had  seen  Mr.  Riley,  he  did  his  best 
to  prepare  her  for  the  letters  and  enclosures,  which  had 
been  for  twenty  years  in  the  custody  of  the  firm,  and 
would  reach  her  on  the  morrow. 

But  what  he  did  not  prepare  her  for  was  the  letter 
from  Lady  Lucy  Marsham  which  reached  Beechcote  by 
the  evening  post,  after  Sir  James  had  left. 

The  letter  lay  awhile  on  Diana's  knee,  unopened. 
Muriel  Colwood,  glancing  at  her,  went  away  with  the 
tears  in  her  eyes,  and  at  last  the  stumbling  fingers  broke 
the  seal. 

"Mv  DEAR  Miss  MALLORY,— I  want  you  to  understand  why  it 
is  that  I  must  oppose  your  marriage  with  my  son.  You  know 
well,  I  think,  how  gladly  I  should  have  welcomed  you  as  a 
daughter  but  for  this  terrible  revelation.  As  it  is,  I  cannot 
consent  to  the  engagement,  and  if  it  is  carried  out  Oliver  must 

287 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

renounce  the  inheritance  of  his  father's  fortune.  I  do  not  say 
this  as  any  vulgar  threat.  It  is  simply  that  I  cannot  allow 
my  husband's  wealth  to  be  used  in  furthering  what  he  would 
never  have  permitted.  He  had — and  so  have  I — the  strongest 
feeling  as  to  the  sacredness  of  the  family  and  its  traditions.  He 
held,  as  I  do,  that  it  ought  to  be  founded  in  mutual  respect  and 
honor,  and  that  children  should  have  round  about  them  the 
help  that  comes  from  the  memory  of  unstained  and  God-fearing 
ancestors.  Do  you  not  also  feel  this  ?  Is  it  not  a  great  principle, 
to  which  personal  happiness  and  gratification  may  justly  be 
sacrificed?  And  would  not  such  a  sacrifice  bring  with  it  the 
highest  happiness  of  all  ? 

"Do  not  think  that  I  am  cruel  or  hard-hearted.  I  grieve  for 
you  with  all  my  soul,  and  I  have  prayed  for  you  earnestly, 
though,  perhaps,  you  will  consider  this  mere  hypocrisy.  But  I 
must  first  think  of  my  son — and  of  my  husband.  Very  possibly 
you  and  Oliver  may  disregard  what  I  say.  But  if  so,  I  warn 
you  that  Oliver  is  not  indifferent  to  money,  simply  because  the 
full  development  of  his  career  depends  on  it.  He  will  regret 
what  he  has  done,  and  your  mutual  happiness  will  be  endangered. 
Moreover,  he  shrinks  from  all  painful  thoughts  and  associations; 
he  seems  to  have  no  power  to  bear  them;  yet  how  can  you  pro- 
tect him  from  them? 

"  I  beg  you  to  be  counselled  in  time,  to  think  of  him  rather 
than  yourself — if,  indeed,  you  care  for  him.  And  should  you 
decide  rightly,  an  old  woman's  love  and  gratitude  will  be  yours 
as  long  as  she  lives. 

"  Believe  me,  dear  Miss  Mallory,  very  sincerely  yours, 

"  LUCY  MARSHAM." 

Diana  dragged  herself  up-stairs  and  locked  her  door. 
At  ten  o'clock  Mrs.  Col  wood  knocked,  and  heard  a  low 
voice  asking  to  be  left  alone.  She  went  away  wondering, 
in  her  astonishment  and  terror,  what  new  blow  had  fallen. 
No  sound  reached  her  during  the  night — except  the 
bluster  of  a  north  wind  rushing  in  great  gusts  upon  the 
hill-side  and  the  woods. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

¥  ATE  on  Monday  afternoon  Lady  Niton  paid  a  call 
L*  in  Eaton  Square.  She  and  Lady  Lucy  were  very 
old  friends,  and  rarely  passed  a  week  when  they  were 
both  in  town  without  seeing  each  other. 

Mr.  Ferrier  lunched  with  her  on  Monday,  and  casually 
remarked  that  Lady  Lucy  was  not  as  well  as  usual.  Lady 
Niton  replied  that  she  would  look  her  up  that  afternoon ; 
and  she  added:  "  And  what  about  that  procrastinating 
fellow  Oliver?  Is  he  engaged  yet?" 

"  Not  to  my  knowledge,"  said  Mr.  Ferrier,  after  a  pause. 

"Then  he  ought  to  be!  What  on  earth  is  he  shilly- 
shallying for  ?  In  my  days  young  men  had  proper  blood 
in  their  veins." 

Ferrier  did  not  pursue  the  subject,  and  Lady  Niton 
at  once  jumped  to  the  conclusion  that  something  had 
happened.  By  five  o'clock  she  was  in  Eaton  Square. 

Only  Alicia  Drake  was  in  the  drawing-room  when  she 
was  announced. 

"I  hear  Lucy's  seedy,"  said  the  old  lady,  abruptly, 
after  vouchsafing  a  couple  of  fingers  to  Miss  Drake.  "  I 
suppose  she's  been  starving  herself,  as  usual  ?" 

Oliver's  mother  enjoyed  an  appetite  as  fastidious  as 
her  judgments  on  men  and  morals,  and  Lady  Niton  had 
a  running  quarrel  with  her  on  the  subject. 

Alicia  replied  that  it  had  been,  indeed,  unusually  dif- 
ficult of  late  to  persuade  Lady  Lucy  to  eat. 

289 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

"The  less  you  eat  the  less  you  may  eat,"  said  Lady 
Niton,  with  vigor.  "The  stomach  contracts  unless  you 
give  it  something  to  do.  That's  what's  the  matter  with 
Lucy,  my  dear — though,  of  course,  I  never  dare  name  the 
organ.  But  I  suppose  she's  been  worrying  herself  about 
something?" 

"  I  am  afraid  she  has." 

"Is  Oliver  engaged?"  asked  Lady  Niton,  suddenly, 
observing  the  young  lady. 

Alicia  replied  demurely  that  that  question  had  perhaps 
better  be  addressed  to  Lady  Lucy. 

"What's  the  matter?  Can't  the  young  people  make 
up  their  minds  ?  Do  they  want  Lucy  to  make  them  up 
for  them?" 

Alicia  looked  at  her  companion  a  little  under  her 
brows,  and  did  not  reply.  Lady  Niton  was  so  piqued  by 
the  girl's  expression  that  she  immediately  threw  herself 
on  the  mystery  she  divined — tearing  and  scratching  at  it, 
like  a  dog  in  a  rabbit-hole.  And  very  soon  she  had 
dragged  it  to  the  light.  Miss  Drake  merely  remarked 
that  it  was  very  sad,  but  it  appeared  that  Miss  Mallory 
was  not  really  a  Mallory  at  all,  but  the  daughter  of  a 
certain  Mrs.  Sparling — Juliet  Sparling,  who — 

"Juliet  Sparling!"  cried  Lady  Niton,  her  queer  small 
eyes  starting  in  their  sockets.  "  My  dear,  you  must  be 
mad!" 

Alicia  smiled,  though  gravely.  She  was  afraid  Lady 
Niton  would  find  that  what  she  said  was  true. 

A  cross-examination  followed,  after  which  Lady  Niton 
sat  speechless  for  a  while.  She  took  a  fan  out  of  her 
large  reticule  and  fanned  herself,  a  proceeding  by  which 
she  often  protested  against  the  temperature  at  which 
Lady  Lucy  kept  her  drawing-room.  She  then  asked  for 

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The  Testing   of   Diana  Mallory 

a  window  to  be  opened,  and  when  she  had  been  suf- 
ficiently oxygenated  she  delivered  herself: 

"Well,  and  why  not?  We  really  didn't  have  the 
picking  and  choosing  of  our  mothers  or  fathers,  though 
Lucy  always  behaves  as  though  we  had— to  the  fourth 
generation.  Besides,  I  always  took  the  side  of  that 
poor  creature,  and  Lucy  believed  the  worst — as  usual. 
Well,  and  so  she's  going  to  make  Oliver  back  out 
of  it?" 

At  this  point  the  door  opened,  and  Lady  Lucy  glided 
in,  clad  in  a  frail  majesty  which  would  have  overawed 
any  one  but  Elizabeth  Niton.  Alicia  discreetly  disap- 
peared, and  Lady  Niton,  after  an  inquiry  as  to  her  friend's 
health — delivered,  as  it  were,  at  the  point  of  the  bayonet, 
and  followed  by  a  flying  remark  on  the  absurdity  of 
treating  your  body  as  if  it  were  only  given  you  to  be 
harried — plunged  headlong  into  the  great  topic.  What 
an  amazing  business!  Now  at  last  one  would  see  what 
Oliver  was  made  of! 

Lady  Lucy  summoned  all  her  dignity,  expounded  her 
view;  and  entirely  declined  to  be  laughed  or  rated  out  of 
it.  For  Elizabeth  Niton,  her  wig  much  awry,  her  old 
eyes  and  cheeks  blazing,  took  up  the  cause  of  Diana  with 
alternate  sarcasm  and  eloquence.  As  for  the  social  dis- 
repute— stuff!  All  that  was  wanting  to  such  a  beautiful 
creature  as  Diana  Mallory  was  a  story  and  a  scandal. 
Positively  she  would  be  the  rage,  and  Oliver's  fortune 
was  made. 

Lady  Lucy  sat  in  pale  endurance,  throwing  in  an 
occasional  protest,  not  budging  by  one  inch — and  no 
doubt  reminding  herself  from  time  to  time,  in  the  in- 
tervals of  her  old  friend's  attacks,  of  the  letter  she  had 
just  despatched  to  Beechcote  —  until,  at  last,  Lady 

291 


The   Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

Niton,  having  worked  herself  up  into  a  fine  frenzy  to  no 
purpose  at  all,  thought  it  was  time  to  depart. 

"Well,  my  dear,"  she  said,  leaning  on  her  stick,  the 
queerest  rag-bag  of  a  figure — crooked  wig,  rusty  black 
dress,  and  an  unspeakable  bonnet — "  you  are  a  saint,  of 
course,  and  I  am  a  quarrelsome  old  sinner;  I  like  society, 
and  you,  I  believe,  regard  it  as  a  grove  of  barren  fig-trees. 
I  don't  care  a  rap  for  my  neighbor  if  he  doesn't  amuse 
me,  and  you  live  in  a  puddle  of  good  works.  But,  upon 
my  word,  I  wouldn't  be  you  when  it  comes  to  the  sheep 
and  the  goats  business!  Here  is  a  young  girl,  sweet 
and  good  and  beautifully  brought  up — money  and  man- 
ners and  everything  handsome  about  her — she  is  in  love 
with  Oliver,  and  he  with  her — and  just  because  you  hap- 
pen to  find  out  that  she  is  the  daughter  of  a  poor  creat- 
ure who  made  a  tragic  mess  of  her  life,  and  suffered 
for  it  infinitely  more  than  you  and  I  are  ever  likely  to 
suffer  for  our  intolerably  respectable  peccadilloes — you 
will  break  her  heart  and  his — if  he's  the  good-luck  to 
have  one! — and  there  you  sit,  looking  like  a  suffering 
angel,  and  expecting  all  your  old  friends,  I  suppose,  to 
pity  and  admire  you.  Well,  I  won't,  Lucy! — I  won't! 
That's  flat.  There's  my  hand.  Good-bye!" 

Lady  Lucy  took  it  patiently,  though  from  no  other 
person  in  the  world  save  Elizabeth  Niton  would  she  have 
so  taken  it. 

"  I  thought,  Elizabeth,  you  would  have  tried  to  under- 
stand me." 

Elizabeth  Niton  shook  her  head. 

"  There's  only  your  Maker  could  do  that,  Lucy.  And 
He  must  be  pretty  puzzled  to  account  for  you  some- 
times. Good-bye.  I  thought  Alicia  looked  uncommon- 
ly cheerfull" 

292 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallorg 

This  last  remark  was  delivered  as  a  parting  shot  as 
Lady  Niton  hobbled  to  the  door.  She  could  not,  how- 
ever, resist  pausing  to  see  its  effect.  Lady  Lucy  turned 
indignantly. 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean  by  that  remark.  Alicia 
has  behaved  with  great  kindness  and  tact!" 

"  I  dare  say !  We're  all  darlings  when  we  get  our  way. 
What  does  Ferrier  say?" 

Lady  Lucy  hesitated. 

"  If  my  old  friends  cannot  see  it  as  I  do — if  they  blame 
me — I  am  very  sorry.  But  it  is  my  responsibility." 

"  A  precious  good  thing,  my  dear,  for  everybody  else ! 
But  as  far  as  I  can  make  out,  they  are  engaged?" 

"Nothing  is  settled,"  said  Lady  Lucy,  hastily;  "and 
I  need  not  say,  Elizabeth,  that  if  you  have  any  affection 
for  us — or  any  consideration  for  Miss  Mallory — you  will 
not  breathe  a  word  of  this  most  sad  business  to  anybody." 

"  Well,  for  Oliver's  sake,  if  he  doesn't  intend  to  behave 
like  a  man,  I  do  certainly  hope  it  may  be  kept  dark!" 
cried  Lady  Niton.  "For  if  he  does  desert  her,  under 
such  circumstances,  I  suppose  you  know  that  a  great 
many  people  will  be  inclined  to  cut  him  ?  I  shall  hold  my 
tongue.  But,  of  course,  it  will  come  out." 

With  which  final  shaft  she  departed,  leaving  Lady 
Lucy  a  little  uneasy.  She  mentioned  Elizabeth  Niton's 
"foolish  remark"  to  Mrs.  Fotheringham  in  the  course  of 
the  evening.  Isabel  Fotheringham  laughed  it  to  scorn. 

"You  may  be  quite  sure  there  will  be  plenty  of  ill- 
natured  talk  either  way,  whether  Oliver  gives  her  up  or 
doesn't.  The  real  thing  to  bear  in  mind  is  that  if  Oliver 
yields  to  your  wishes,  mamma — as  you  certainly  deserve 
that  he  should,  after  all  you  have  done  for  him — he  will 
be  delivered  from  an  ignorant  and  reactionary  wife  who 

293 


The  Testing    of   Diana    Mallorg 

might  have  spoiled  his  career.  I  like  to  call  a  spade  a 
spade.  Oliver  belongs  to  his  party,  and  his  party  have 
a  right  to  count  upon  him.  He  has  no  right  to  jeopardize 
either  his  opinions  or  his  money;  we  have  a  claim  on 
both." 

Lady  Lucy  gave  an  unconscious  sigh.  She  was  glad 
of  any  arguments,  from  anybody,  that  offered  her  sup- 
port. But  it  did  occur  to  her  that  if  Diana  Mallory 
had  not  shown  a  weakness  for  the  soldiers  of  her  country, 
and  if  her  heart  had  been  right  on  Women's  Suffrage, 
Isabel  would  have  judged  her  case  differently;  so  that 
her  approval  was  not  worth  all  it  might  have  been. 

Meanwhile,  in  the  House  of  Commons,  Isabel  Fother- 
ingham's  arguments  was  being  put  in  other  forms. 

On  the  Tuesday  morning  Marsham  went  down  to  the 
House,  for  a  Committee,  in  a  curious  mood — half  love, 
half  martyrdom.  The  thought  of  Diana  was  very  sweet ; 
it  warmed  and  thrilled  his  heart.  But  somehow,  with 
every  hour,  he  realized  more  fully  what  a  magnificent 
thing  he  was  doing,  and  how  serious  was  his  position. 

In  a  few  hurried  words  with  Ferrier,  before  the  meet- 
ing of  the  House,  Marsham  gave  the  result  of  his  visit 
to  Beechcote.  Diana  had  been,  of  course,  very  much 
shaken,  but  was  bearing  the  thing  bravely.  They  were 
engaged,  but  nothing  was  to  be  said  in  public  for  at 
least  six  months,  so  as  to  give  Lady  Lucy  time  to  re- 
consider. 

"Though,  of  course,  I  know,  as  far  as  that  is  con- 
cerned, we  might  as  well  be  married  to-morrow  and 
have  done  with  it!" 

"Ah! — but  it  is  due  to  her — to  your  mother." 

"  I  suppose  it  is.  But  the  whole  situation  is  grotesque. 
294 


The  Testing    of  Diana   Mallortj 

I  must  look  out  for  some  way  of  making  money.     Any 
suggestions  thankfully  received!" 

Marsham  spoke  with  an  irritable  flippancy.  Ferrier's 
hazel  eyes,  set  and  almost  lost  in  spreading  cheeks,  dwelt 
upon  him  thoughtfully. 

"All  right;  I  will  think  of  some.  You  explained  the 
position  to  Miss  Mallory?" 

"No,"  said  Marsham,  shortly.     "How  could  I?" 
The  alternatives  flew  through  Ferrier's  mind:  "Cow- 
ardice?—or  delicacy?"     Aloud,  he  said:   "I  am  afraid 
she  will  not  be  long  in  ignorance.     It  will  be  a  big  fight 
for  her,  too." 

Marsham  shrugged  his  thin  shoulders. 
"  Of  course.     And  all  for  nothing.     Hullo,  Fleming! — 
do  you  want  me  ?" 

For  the  Liberal  Chief  Whip  had  paused  beside  them 
where  they  stood,  in  a  corner  of  the  smoking-room,  as 
though  wishing  to  speak  to  one  or  other  of  them,  yet  not 
liking  to  break  up  their  conversation. 

"  Don't  let  me  interrupt,"  he  said  to  Marsham.     "  But 
can  I  have  a  word  presently?" 
"Now,  if  you  like." 

"  Come  to  the  Terrace,"  said  the  other,  and  they  went 
out  into  the  gray  of  a  March  afternoon.  There  they 
walked  up  and  down  for  some  time,  engaged  in  an 
extremely  confidential  conversation.  Signs  of  a  general 
election  were  beginning  to  be  strong  and  numerous. 
The  Tory  Government  was  weakening  visibly,  and  the 
Liberals  felt  themselves  in  sight  of  an  autumn,  if  not  a 
summer,  dissolution.  But — funds! — there  was  the  rub. 
The  party  coffers  were  very  poorly  supplied,  and  unless 
they  could  be  largely  replenished,  and  at  once,  the 
prospects  of  the  election  were  not  rosy. 

295 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

Marsham  had  hitherto  counted  as  one  of  the  men 
on  whom  the  party  could  rely.  It  was  known  that  his 
own  personal  resources  were  not  great,  but  he  com- 
manded his  mother's  ample  purse.  Lady  Lucy  had 
always  shown  herself  both  loyal  and  generous,  and  at 
her  death  it  was,  of  course,  assumed  that  he  would  be 
her  heir.  Lady  Lucy's  check,  in  fact,  sent,  through  her 
son,  to  the  leading  party  club,  had  been  of  considerable 
importance  in  the  election  five  years  before  this  date,  in 
which  Marsham  himself  had  been  returned ;  the  Chief 
Whip  wanted  to  assure  himself  that  in  case  of  need  it 
would  be  repeated. 

But  for  the  first  time  in  a  conversation  of  this  kind 
Marsham's  reply  was  halting  and  uncertain.  He  would 
do  his  best,  but  he  could  not  pledge  himself.  When 
the  Chief  Whip,  disappointed  and  astonished,  broke  up 
their  conference,  Marsham  walked  into  the  House  after 
him,  in  the  morbid  belief  that  a  large  part  of  his  influence 
and  prestige  with  his  party  was  already  gone.  Let  those 
fellows,  he  thought,  who  imagine  that  the  popular  party 
can  be  run  without  money,  inform  themselves,  and  not 
talk  like  asses! 

In  the  afternoon,  during  an  exciting  debate  on  a  sub- 
ject Marsham  had  made  to  some  extent  his  own,  and  in 
which  he  was  expected  to  speak,  two  letters  were  brought 
to  him.  One  was  from  Diana.  He  put  it  into  his  pocket, 
feeling  an  instinctive  recoil — with  his  speech  in  sight — 
from  the  emotion  it  must  needs  express  and  arouse.  The 
other  was  from  the  chairman  of  a  Committee  in  Duns- 
combe,  the  chief  town  of  his  division.  The  town  was,  so 
far,  without  any  proper  hall  for  public  meetings.  It  was 
proposed  to  build  a  new  Liberal  Club  with  a  hall  at- 

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The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorij 

tached.  The  leading  local  supporter  of  the  scheme  wrote 
— with  apologies — to  ask  Marsham  what  he  was  prepared 
to  subscribe.  It  was  early  days  to  make  the  inquiry, 
but — in  confidence — he  might  state  that  he  was  afraid 
local  support  for  the  scheme  would  mean  more  talk 
than  money.  Marsham  pondered  the  letter  gloomily. 
A  week  earlier  he  would  have  gone  to  his  mother  for 
a  thousand  pounds  without  any  doubt  of  her  reply. 

It  was  just  toward  the  close  of  the  dinner-hour  that 
Marsham  caught  the  Speaker's  eye.  Perhaps  the  special 
effort  that  had  been  necessary  to  recall  his  thoughts  to 
the  point  had  given  his  nerves  a  stimulus.  At  any 
rate,  he  spoke  unusually  well,  and  sat  down  amid  the 
cheers  of  his  party,  conscious  that  he  had  advanced  his 
Parliamentary  career.  A  good  many  congratulations 
reached  him  during  the  evening;  he  "drank  delight  of 
battle  with  his  peers,"  for  the  division  went  well,  and 
when  he  left  the  House  at  one  o'clock  in  the  morning  it 
was  in  a  mood  of  tingling  exhilaration,  and  with  a  sense 
of  heightened  powers. 

It  was  not  till  he  reached  his  own  room,  in  his  mother's 
hushed  and  darkened  house,  that  he  opened  Diana's 
letter. 

The  mere  sight  of  it,  as  he  drew  it  out  of  his  pocket, 
jarred  upon  him  strangely.  It  recalled  to  him  the  fears 
and  discomforts,  the  sense  of  sudden  misfortune  and  of 
ugly  associations,  which  had  been,  for  a  time,  obliterated 
in  the  stress  and  interest  of  politics.  He  opened  it  al- 
most reluctantly,  wondering  at  himself. 

"  MY  DEAR  OLIVER, — This  letter  from  your  mother  reached  me 
last  night.  I  don't  know  what  to  say,  though  I  have  thought 
for  many  hours.  I  ought  not  to  do  you  this  great  injury;  that 
seems  plain  to  me.  Yet,  then,  I  think  of  all  you  said  to  me, 

ao  297 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

and  I  feel  you  must  decide.  You  must  do  what  is  best  for  your 
future  and  your  career;  and  I  shall  never  blame  you,  whatever 
you  think  right.  I  wish  I  had  known,  or  realized,  the  whole 
truth  about  your  mother  when  you  were  still  here.  It  was  my 
stupidity. 

"  I  have  no  claim — none — against  what  is  best  for  you.  Just 
two  words,  Oliver! — and  I  think  they  ought  to  be  'Good-bye.' 

"  Sir  James  Chide  came  after  you  left,  and  was  most  dear 
and  kind.  To-day  I  have  my  father's  letter — and  one  from  my 
mother — that  she  wrote  for  me — twenty  years  ago.  I  mustn't 
write  any  more.  My  eyes  are  so  tired. 

"Your  grateful  DIANA." 

He  laid  down  the  blurred  note,  and  turned  to  the  en- 
closure. Then  he  read  his  mother's  letter.  And  he  had 
imagined,  in  his  folly,  that  his  mother's  refinement  would 
at  least  make  use  of  some  other  weapon  than  the  money ! 
Why,  it  was  all  money! — a  blunderbuss  of  the  crudest 
kind,  held  at  Diana's  head  in  the  crudest  way.  This  is 
how  the  saints  behave — the  people  of  delicacy — when  it 
comes  to  a  pinch!  He  saw  his  mother  stripped  of  all  her 
pretensions,  her  spiritual  airs,  and  for  the  first  time  in 
his  life — his  life  of  unwilling  subordination — he  dared  to 
despise  her. 

But  neither  contempt  nor  indignation  helped  him 
much.  How  was  he  to  answer  Diana?  He  paced  up 
and  down  for  an  hour  considering  it,  then  sat  down  and 
wrote. 

His  letter  ran  as  follows: 

"  DEAREST  DIANA, — I  asked  you  to  be  my  wife,  and  I  stand  by 
my  word.  I  did  not  like  to  say  too  much  about  my  mother's 
state  of  mind  when  we  were  together  yesterday,  but  I  am  afraid 
it  is  very  true  that  she  will  withdraw  her  present  allowance  to 
me,  and  deprive  me  of  the  money  which  my  father  left.  Most 
unjustly,  as  it  has  always  seemed  to  me,  she  has  complete  con- 
trol over  it.  Never  mind.  I  must  see  what  can  be  done. 

298 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

No  doubt  my  political  career  will  be,  for  a  time,  much  affected. 
We  must  hope  it  will  only  be  for  a  time. 

"  Ferrier  and  Sir  James  believe  that  my  mother  cannot  main- 
tain her  present  attitude.  But  I  do  not,  alack!  share  their 
belief.  I  realize,  as  no  one  can  who  does  not  live  in  the  same 
house  with  her,  the  strength  and  obstinacy  of  her  will.  She 
will,  I  suppose,  leave  my  father's  half-million  to  some  of  the 
charitable  societies  in  which  she  believes,  and  we  must  try  and 
behave  as  though  it  had  never  existed.  I  don't  regret  it  for 
myself.  But,  of  course,  there  are  many  public  causes  one  would 
have  liked  to  help. 

"  If  I  can,  I  will  come  down  to  Beechcote  on  Saturday  again. 
Meanwhile,  do  let  me  urge  you  to  take  care  of  your  health,  and 
not  to  dwell  too  much  on  a  past  that  nothing  can  alter.  I 
understand,  of  course,  how  it  must  affect  you;  but  I  am  sure  it 
will  be  best — best,  indeed,  for  us  both — that  you  should  now  put 
it  as  much  as  possible  out  of  your  mind.  It  may  not  be  possible 
to  hide  the  sad  truth.  I  fear  it  will  not  be.  But  I  am  sure  that 
the  less  said — or  even  thought — about  it,  the  better.  You  won't 
think  me  unkind,  will  you? 

"  You  will  see  a  report  of  my  speech  in  the  debate  to-morrow. 
It  certainly  made  an  impression,  and  I  must  manage,  if  I  can, 
to  stick  to  Parliament.  But  we  will  consult  when  we  meet. 

"Your  most  loving  OLIVER." 

As  he  wrote  it  Marsham  had  been  uncomfortably  con- 
scious of  another  self  beside  him — mocking,  or  critical. 

"I  don't  regret  it  for  myself."  Pshaw!  What  was 
there  to  choose  between  him  and  his  mother?  There, 
on  his  writing- table,  lay  a  number  of  recent  bills,  and 
some  correspondence  as  to  a  Scotch  moor  he  had  per- 
suaded his  mother  to  take  for  the  coming  season.  There 
was  now  to  be  an  end,  he  supposed,  to  the  expenditure 
which  the  bills  represented,  and  an  end  to  expensive 
moors.  "  I  don't  regret  it  for  myself."  Damned  hum- 
bug! When  did  any  man,  brought  up  in  wealth,  make 
the  cold  descent  to  poverty  and  self-denial  without 
caring  ?  Yet  he  let  the  sentence  stand.  He  was  too 
sleepy,  too  inert,  to  rewrite  it. 

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The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

And  how  cold  were  all  his  references  to  the  catastro- 
phe !  He  groaned  as  he  thought  of  Diana — as  though  he 
actually  saw  the  vulture  gnawing  at  the  tender  breast. 
Had  she  slept? — had  the  tears  stopped?  Let  him  tear 
up  the  beastly  thing,  and  begin  again! 

No.  His  head  fell  forward  on  his  arm.  Some  dull 
weight  of  character  —  of  disillusion  —  interposed.  He 
could  do  no  better.  He  shut,  stamped,  and  posted  what 
he  had  written. 

At  mid-day,  in  her  Brookshire  village,  Diana  received 
the  letter — with  another  from  London,  in  a  handwriting 
she  did  not  know. 

When  she  had  read  Marsham's  it  dropped  from  her 
hand.  The  color  flooded  her  cheeks — as  though  the 
heart  leaped  beneath  a  fresh  blow  which  it  could  not 
realize  or  measure.  Was  it  so  she  would  have  written  to 
Oliver  if— 

She  was  sitting  at  her  writing-table  in  the  drawing- 
room.  Her  eyes  wandered  through  the  mullioned  win- 
dow beside  her  to  the  hill-side  and  the  woods.  This  was 
Wednesday.  Four  days  since,  among  those  trees,  Oliver 
had  spoken  to  her.  During  those  four  days  it  seemed  to 
her  that,  in  the  old  Hebrew  phrase,  she  had  gone  down 
into  the  pit.  All  the  nameless  dreads  and  terrors  of  her 
youth,  all  the  intensified  fears  of  the  last  few  weeks,  had 
in  a  few  minutes  become  real  and  verified — only  in  a 
shape  infinitely  more  terrible  than  any  fear  among  them 
all  had  ever  dared  to  prophesy.  The  story  of  her  mother 
—the  more  she  knew  of  it,  the  more  she  realized  it,  the 
more  sharply  it  bit  into  the  tissues  of  life;  the  more  it 
seemed  to  set  Juliet  Sparling  and  Juliet  Sparling's  child 
alone  by  themselves — in  a  dark  world.  Diana  had  never 

300 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

yet  had  the  courage  to  venture  out-of-doors  since  the 
news  came  to  her ,  she  feared  to  see  even  her  old  friends 
the  Roughsedges,  and  had  been  invisible  to  them  since 
the  Saturday;  she  feared  even  the  faces  of  the  village 
children. 

All  through  she  seemed  to  have  been  clinging  to  Mar- 
sham's  supporting  hand  as  to  the  clew  which  might — 
when  nature  had  had  its  way — lead  her  back  out  of  this 
labyrinth  of  pain.  But  surely  he  would  let  her  sorrow 
awhile ! — would  sorrow  with  her.  Under  the  strange  cold- 
ness and  brevity  of  his  letter,  she  felt  like  the  children  in 
the  market-place  of  old — "  We  have  mourned  unto  you, 
and  ye  have  not  wept." 

Yet  if  her  story  was  not  to  be  a  source  of  sorrow — of 
divine  pity — it  could  only  be  a  source  of  disgrace  and 
shame.  Tears  might  wash  it  out!  But  to  hate  and  re- 
sent it — so  it  seemed  to  her — must  be — in  a  world,  where 
every  detail  of  such  a  thing  was  or  would  be  known — to 
go  through  life  branded  and  crushed  by  it.  If  the  man 
who  was  to  be  her  husband  could  only  face  it  thus  (by 
a  stern  ostracism  of  the  dead,  by  silencing  all  mention 
of  them  between  himself  and  her) ,  her  cheeks  could  never 
cease  to  burn,  her  heart  to  shrink. 

Now  at  last  she  felt  herself  weighed  indeed  to  the 
earth,  because  Marsham,  hi  that  measured  letter,  had 
made  her  realize  the  load  on  him. 

All  that  huge  wealth  he  was  to  give  up  for  her  ?  His 
mother  had  actually  the  power  to  strip  him  of  his  in- 
heritance?— and  would  certainly  exercise  it  to  punish 
him  for  marrying  her — Diana? 

Humiliation  came  upon  her  like  a  flood,  and  a  bitter  in- 
sight followed.  Between  the  lines  of  the  letter  she  read 
the  reluctance,  the  regrets  of  the  man  who  had  written  it. 

301 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorij 

She  saw  that  he  would  be  faithful  to  her  if  he  could, 
but  that  in  her  own  concentration  of  love  she  had  ac- 
cepted what  Oliver  had  not  in  truth  the  strength  to  give 
her.  The  Marsham  she  loved  had  suddenly  disappeared, 
and  in  his  place  was  a  Marsham  whom  she  might — at  a 
personal  cost  he  would  never  forget,  and  might  never 
forgive — persuade  or  compel  to  marry  her. 

She  sprang  up.  For  the  first  time  since  the  blow 
had  fallen,  vigor  had  returned  to  her  movements  and 
life  to  her  eyes. 

"  Ah,  no!"  she  said  to  herself,  panting  a  little.    "  No!*1 
A  letter  fell  to  the  ground — the  letter  in  the  unknown 
handwriting.     Some  premonition  made  her  open  it  and 
prepared  her  for  the  signature. 

"  MY  DEAR  Miss  MALLORY, — I  heard  of  the  sad  discovery  which 
had  taken  place,  from  my  cousin,  Miss  Drake,  on  Sunday  morn- 
ing, and  came  up  at  once  from  the  country  to  be  with  my  mother; 
for  I  know  well  with  what  sympathy  she  had  been  following 
Oliver's  wishes  and  desires.  It  is  a  very  painful  business.  I  do 
most  truly  regret  the  perplexing  situation  in  which  you  find 
yourself,  and  I  am  sure  you  will  not  resent  it  if,  as  Oliver's 
sister,  I  write  you  my  views  on  the  matter. 

"I  am  afraid  it  is  useless  to  expect  that  my  mother  should 
give  way.  And,  then,  the  question  is,  What  is  the  right  course 
for  you  and  Oliver  to  pursue?  I  understand  that  he  proposed 
to  you,  and  you  accepted  him,  in  ignorance  of  the  melancholy 
truth.  And,  like  a  man  of  honor,  he  proposes  to  stand  by  his 
engagement — unless,  of  course,  you  release  him. 

"  Now,  if  I  were  in  your  place,  I  should  expect  to  consider 
such  a  matter  not  as  affecting  myself  only,  but  in  its  relation 
to  society — and  the  community.  Our  first  duty  is  to  Society. 
We  owe  it  everything,  and  we  must  not  act  selfishly  toward 
it.  Consider  Oliver's  position.  He  has  his  foot  on  the  political 
ladder.  Every  session  his  influence  in  Parliament  increases. 
His  speech  to-night  was — as  I  hear  from  a  man  who  has  just 
come  from  the  debate — the  most  brilliant  he  has  yet  made.  It 
is  extremely  likely  that  when  our  party  comes  in  again  he  will 

302 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

have  office,  and  in  ten  or  fifteen  years'  time  what  is  there  to 
prevent  his  being  even  Prime  Minister?— with  all  the  mighty 
influence  over  millions  of  human  beings  which  that  means ? 

"But  to  give  him  every  chance  in  his  career  money  is,  un- 
fortunately, indispensable.  Every  English  Prime  Minister  has 
been  a  rich  man.  It  may  be  a  blot  on  our  English  life.  I  think 
it  is.  But,  then,  I  have  been  all  my  life  on  the  side  of  the  poor. 
You,  who  are  a  Tory  and  an  Imperialist,  who  sympathize  with 
militarism  and  with  war,  will  agree  that  it  is  important  our 
politicians  should  be  among  the  '  Haves,'  that  a  man's  posses- 
sions do  matter  to  his  party  and  his  cause. 

"They  matter  especially — at  the  present  moment— to  our 
party  and  our  cause.  We  are  the  poor  party,  and  our  rich  men 
are  few  and  far  between. 

"  You  may  say  that  you  would  help  him,  and  that  your  own 
money  would  be  at  his  disposal.  But  could  a  man  live  upon 
his  wife,  in  such  circumstances,  with  any  self-respect  F  Of  course, 
I  know  that  you  are  very  young,  and  I  trust  that  your  views  on 
many  subjects,  social  and  political,  will  change,  and  change 
materially,  before  long.  It  is  a  s;nous  thing  for  women  nowa- 
days to  throw  themselves  across  the  path  of  progress.  At  the 
same  time  I  see  that  you  have  a  strong — if  I  may  say  so — a 
vehement  character.  It  may  not  be  easy  for  you  to  cast  off 
at  once  what,  I  understand,  has  been  your  father's  influence. 
And  meanwhile  Oliver  would  be  fighting  all  your  father's  and 
your  ideas — largely  on  your  money;  for  he  has  only  a  thousand 
a  year  of  his  own. 

"Please  let  me  assure  you  that  I  am  not  influenced  by  my 
mother's  views.  She  attaches  importance — an  exaggerated — 
if  she  were  not  my  mother,  I  should  say  an  absurd  —  impor- 
tance, to  the  family.  Whereas,  ideas — the  great  possibilities 
of  the  future — when  free  men  and  women  shall  lead  a  free  and 
noble  life — these  are  what  influence  me — these  are  what  I  live 
for. 

"  It  will  cause  you  both  pain  to  separate.  I  know  that.  But 
summon  a  rational  will  to  your  aid,  and  you  will  soon  see  that 
passion  is  a  poor  thing  compared  to  impersonal  and  unselfish 
aims.  The  cause  of  women — their  political  and  social  enfran- 
chisement— the  freeing  of  men  from  the  curse  of  militarism — 
of  both  men  and  women  from  the  patriotic  lies  which  make 
us  bullies  and  cowards — it  is  to  these  I  would  invite  you — when 
you  have  overcome  a  mere  personal  grief. 

3°3 


The   Testing    of  Diana    Mallorg 

"  I  fear  I  shall  seem  to  you  a  voice  crying  in  the  wilderness; 
but  I  wnte  in  Oliver's  interest — and  your  own. 
"  Yours  sincerely, 

"ISABEL  FOTHERINGHAM. 

"P.S.  Our  secretary,  Mrs.  Derrick  Smith,  at  the  Mary 
Wollstonecraft  Club,  will  always  be  glad  to  send  you  any 
literature  you  might  require." 

Diana  read  to  the  end.  She  put  it  down  with  some- 
thing like  a  smile.  As  she  paced  the  room,  her  head 
thrown  back,  her  hands  behind  her,  the  weight  had  been 
lifted  from  her,  she  breathed  from  a  freer  breast. 

Very  soon  she  went  back  to  her  desk  and  began  to 
write. 

"My  DEAR  OLIVER, — I  did  not  realize  how  things  were  when 
you  came  yesterday  Now  I  see.  You  must  not  marry  me.  I 
could  not  bear  to  bring  poverty  upon  you,  and — to-day — I  do 
not  feel  that  I  have  the  strength  to  meet  your  mother's  and  your 
sister's  opposition. 

"  Will  you  please  tell  Lady  Lucy  and  Mrs.  Fotheringham  that 
f  have  received  their  letters  ?  It  will  not  be  necessary  to  answer 
them.  You  will  tell  them  that  I  have  broken  off  the  engage- 
ment. 

"  You  were  very  good  to  me  yesterday.  I  thank  you  with  all 
my  heart.  But  it  is  not  in  my  power — yet — to  forget  it  all. 
My  mother  was  so  young — and  it  seems  but  the  other  day. 

"I  would  not  injure  your  career  for  the  world.  I  hope  that 
all  good  will  come  to  you — always. 

"Probably  Mrs.  Colwood  and  I  shall  go  abroad  for  a  little 
while.  I  want  to  be  alone — and  it  will  be  easiest  so.  Indeed, 
if  possible,  we  shall  leave  London  to-morrow  night.  Good-bye. 

"  DIANA." 

She  rose,  and  stood  looking  down  upon  the  letter.  A 
thought  struck  her.  Would  he  take  the  sentence  giving 
the  probable  time  of  her  departure  as  an  invitation  to 
him  to  come  and  meet  her  at  the  station? — as  showing 
a  hope  that  he  might  yet  persist — and  prevail  ? 

304 


The  Testing    of  Diana    Mallorg 

She  stooped  impetuously  to  rewrite  the  letter.  In- 
stead, her  tears  fell  on  it.  Sobbing,  she  put  it  up — she 
pressed  it  to  her  lips.  If  he  did  come — might  they  not 
press  hands ?— look  into  each  other's  eyes? — just  once, 
once  more? 

An  hour  later  the  home  was  in  a  bustle  of  packing 
and  housekeeping  arrangements.  Muriel  Colwood,  with 
a  small  set  face  and  lips,  and  eyes  that  would  this  time 
have  scorned  to  cry,  was  writing  notes  and  giving  direc- 
tions. Meanwhile,  Diana  had  written  to  Mrs.  Rough- 
sedge,  and,  instead  of  answering  the  letter,  the  recipient 
appeared  in  person,  breathless  with  the  haste  she  had 
made,  the  gray  curls  displaced. 

Diana  told  her  story,  her  slender  fingers  quivering  in 
the  large  motherly  hand  whose  grasp  soothed  her,  her 
eyes  avoiding  the  tender  dismay  and  pity  writ  large  on 
the  old  face  beside  her;  and  at  the  end  she  said,  with  an 
effort: 

"  Perhaps  you  have  all  expected  me  to  be  engaged  to 
Mr.  Marsham.  He  did  propose  to  me — but — I  have  re- 
fused him/' 

She  faltered  a  little  as  she  told  her  first  falsehood,  but 
she  told  it. 

"My  dear!"  cried  Mrs.  Roughsedge,  "he  can't — he 
won't — accept  that!  If  he  ever  cared  for  you,  he  will 
care  for  you  tenfold  more  now!" 

"  It  was  I, "  said  Diana,  hurriedly—"  I  have  done  it. 
And,  please,  I  would  rather  it  were  now  all  forgotten. 
Nobody  else  need  know,  need  they,  that  he  proposed?" 

She  stroked  her  friend's  hand  piteously.  Mrs.  Rough- 
sedge,  foreseeing  the  storm  of  gossip  that  would  be 
sweeping  in  a  day  or  two  through  the  village  and  the 

305 


The    Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

neighborhood,  could  not  command  herself  to  speak. 
Her  questions — her  indignation — choked  her.  At  the 
end  of  the  conversation,  when  Diana  had  described  such 
plans  as  she  had,  and  the  elder  lady  rose  to  go,  she  said, 
faltering : 

"May  Hugh  come  and  say  good-bye?" 

Diana  shrank  a  moment,  and  then  assented.  Mrs. 
Roughsedge  folded  the  girl  to  her  heart,  and  fairly  broke 
down.  Diana  comforted  her;  but  it  seemed  as  if  her 
own  tears  were  now  dry.  When  they  were  parting,  she 
called  her  friend  back  a  moment. 

"I  think,"  she  said,  steadily,  "it  would  be  best  now 
that  everybody  here  should  know  what  my  name  was, 
and  who  I  am.  Will  you  tell  the  Vicar,  and  anybody 
else  you  think  of?  I  shall  come  back  to  live  here. 
I  know  everybody  will  be  kind — "  Her  voice  died  away. 

The  March  sun  had  set  and  the  lamps  were  lit  when 
Hugh  Roughsedge  entered  the  drawing-room  where 
Diana  sat  writing  letters,  paying  bills,  absorbing  herself 
in  all  the  details  of  departure.  The  meeting  between 
them  was  short.  Diana  was  embarrassed,  above  all,  by 
the  tumult  of  suppressed  feeling  she  divined  in  Rough- 
sedge.  For  the  first  time  she  must  perforce  recognize 
what  hitherto  she  had  preferred  not  to  see:  what  now 
she  was  determined  not  to  know.  The  young  soldier, 
on  his  side,  was  stifled  by  his  own  emotions — wrath — 
contempt — pity;  and  by  a  maddening  desire  to  wrap  this 
pale  stricken  creature  in  his  arms,  and  so  protect  her 
from  an  abominable  world.  But  something  told  him — 
to  his  despair — that  she  had  been  in  Marsham's  arms; 
had  given  her  heart  irrevocably;  and  that,  Marsham's 
wife  or  no,  all  was  done  and  over  for  him,  Hugh  Rough- 
sedge. 

306 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallorg 

Yet  surely  in  time— in  time!  That  was  the  inner 
clamor  of  the  mind,  as  he  bid  her  good-bye,  after  twenty 
minutes'  disjointed  talk,  in  which,  finally,  neither  dared 
to  go  beyond  commonplace.  Only  at  the  last,  as  he  held 
her  hand,  he  asked  her: 

"I  may  write  to  you  from  Nigeria?" 

Rather  shyly,  she  assented;  adding,  with  a  smile: 

"But  I  am  a  bad  letter- writer!" 

"  You  are  an  angel!"  he  said,  hoarsely,  lifted  her  hand, 
kissed  it,  and  rushed  away. 

She  was  shaken  by  the  scene,  and  had  hardly  com- 
posed herself  again  to  a  weary  grappling  with  business 
when  the  front  door  bell  rang  once  more,  and  the  butler 
appeared. 

"Mr.  Lavery  wishes  to  know,  miss,  if  you  will  see 
him." 

The  -Vicar!  Diana's  heart  sank.  Must  she?  But 
some  deep  instinct — some  yearning — interfered,  and  she 
bade  him  be  admitted. 

Then  she  stood  waiting,  dreading  some  onslaught  on 
the  secrets  of  her  mind  and  heart — some  presumption  in 
the  name  of  religion. 

The  tall  form  entered,  in  the  close-buttoned  coat,  the 
gaunt  oblong  of  the  face  poked  forward,  between  the  large 
protruding  ears,  the  spectacled  eyes  blinking. 

"  May  I  come  in  ?     I  will  only  keep  you  a  few  minutes." 

She  came  forward  and  gave  him  her  hand.  The  door 
shut  behind  him. 

"Won't  you  sit  down?" 

"  I  think  not.  You  must  be  very  busy.  I  only  came 
to  say  a  few  words.  Miss  Mallory!" 

He  still  held  her  hand.  Diana  trembled,  and  looked 
up. 

3°7 


The   Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

"  — I  fear  you  may  have  thought  me  harsh.  I  blame 
myself  in  many  respects.  Will  you  forgive  me?  Mrs. 
Roughsedge  has  told  me  what  you  wished  her  to  tell 
me.  Before  you  go,  will  you  still  let  me  give  you  Christ's 
message?" 

The  tears  rushed  back  to  Diana's  eyes;  she  looked 
at  him  silently. 

"  '  Blessed  are  they  that  mourn,'  "  he  said,  gently, 
with  a  tender  dignity,  " '  for  they  shall  be  comforted!' ' 

Their  eyes  met.  From  the  man's  face  and  manner 
everything  had  dropped  but  the  passion  of  Christian 
charity,  mingled  with  a  touch  of  remorse — as  though,  in 
what  had  been  revealed  to  him,  the  servant  had  realized 
some  mysterious  rebuke  of  his  Lord. 

"Remember  that!"  he  went  on.  "Your  mourning 
is  your  blessing.  God's  love  will  come  to  you  through  it 
— and  the  sense  of  fellowship  with  Christ.  Don't  cast  it 
from  you — don't  put  it  away." 

"1  know,"  she  said,  brokenly.  "It  is  agony,  but  it 
is  sacred." 

His  eyes  grew  dim.  She  withdrew  her  hand,  and  they 
talked  a  little  about  her  journey. 

"  But  you  will  come  back,"  he  said  to  her,  presently, 
with  earnestness;  "your  friends  here  will  think  it  an 
honor  and  a  privilege  to  welcome  you." 

"  Oh  yes,  I  shall  come  back.  Unless — I  have  some 
friends  in  London — East  London.  Perhaps  I  might 
work  there." 

He  shook  his  head. 

"No,  you  are  not  strong  enough.  Come  back  here. 
There  is  God's  work  to  be  done  in  this  village,  Miss 
Mallory.  Come  and  put  your  hand  to  it.  But  not  yet — 
not  yet." 

308 


The  Testing    o*    Diana    Mallory 

Then  her  weariness  told  him  that  he  had  said  enough, 
and  he  went. 

Late  that  night  Diana  tore  herself  from  Muriel 
Colwood,  went  alone  to  her  room,  and  locked  her  door. 
Then  she  drew  back  the  curtains,  and  gazed  once  more 
on  the  same  line  of  hills  she  had  seen  rise  out  of  the  win- 
try mists  on  Christmas  morning.  The  moon  was  still  be- 
hind the  down,  and  a  few  stars  showed  among  the  clouds. 

She  turned  away,  unlocked  a  drawer,  and,  falling  upon 
her  knees  by  the  bed,  she  spread  out  before  her  the 
fragile  and  time-stained  paper  that  held  her  mother's 
last  words  to  her. 

"  MY  LITTLE  DIANA — my  precious  child, — It  may  be — it  will  be 
— years  before  this  reaches  you.  I  have  made  your  father 
promise  to  let  you  grow  up  without  any  knowledge  or  reminder 
of  me.  It  was  difficult,  but  at  last — he  promised.  Yet  there 
must  come  a  time  when  it  will  hurt  you  to  think  of  your  mother. 
When  it  does  —  listen,  my  darling.  Your  father  knows  that 
I  loved  him  always !  He  knows  —  and  he  has  forgiven.  He 
knows  too  what  I  did — and  how — so  does  Sir  James.  There  is 
no  place,  no  pardon  for  me  on  earth — but  you  may  still  love  me, 
Diana — still  love  me — and  pray  for  me.  Oh,  my  little  one! — 
they  brought  you  in  to  kiss  me  a  little  while  ago — and  you 
looked  at  me  with  your  blue  deep  eyes — and  then  you  kissed 
me — so  softly — a  little  strangely — with  your  cool  lips — and  now 
I  have  made  the  nurse  lift  me  up  that  I  may  write.  A  few  days 
— perhaps  even  a  few  hours — will  bring  me  rest.  I  long  for  it. 
And  yet  it  is  sweet  to  be  with  your  father,  and  to  hear  your 
little  feet  on  the  stairs.  But  most  sweet,  perhaps,  because  it 
must  end  so  soon.  Death  makes  these  days  possible,  and  for 
that  I  bless  and  welcome  death.  I  seem  to  be  slipping  away  on 
the  great  stream — so  gently — tired — only  your  father's  hand. 
Good-bye — my  precious  Diana — your  dying — and  very  weary 

"MOTHER." 

The  words  sank  into  Diana's  young  heart.  They 
dulled  the  smart  of  her  crushed  love;  they  awakened  a 

3°9 


The    Testing    of   Diana    Mallorij 

sense  of  those  forces  ineffable  and  majestic,  terrible  and 
yet  "to  be  entreated,"  which  hold  and  stamp  the  human 
life.  Oliver  had  forsaken  her.  His  kiss  was  still  on  her 
lips.  Yet  he  had  forsaken  her.  She  must  stand  alone. 
Only — in  the  spirit — she  put  out  clinging  hands ;  she  drew 
her  mother  to  her  breast;  she  smiled  into  her  father's 
eyes.  One  with  them;  and  so  one  with  all  who  suffer! 
She  offered  her  life  to  those  great  Forces;  to  the  hidden 
Will.  And  thus,  after  three  days  of  torture,  agony 
passed  into  a  trance  of  ecstasy — of  aspiration. 

But  these  were  the  exaltations  of  night  and  silence. 
With  the  returning  day,  Diana  was  again  the  mere  girl, 
struggling  with  misery  and  nervous  shock.  In  the 
middle  of  the  morning  arrived  a  special  messenger  with 
a  letter  from  Marsham.  It  contained  arguments  and 
protestations  which  in  the  living  mouth  might  have  had 
some  power.  That  the  living  mouth  was  not  there  to 
make  them  was  a  fact  more  eloquent  than  any  letter. 
For  the  first  time  Diana  was  conscious  of  impatience,  of 
a  natural  indignation.  She  merely  asked  the  messenger 
to  say  that  "  there  was  no  answer." 

Yet,  as  they  crossed  London  her  heart  fluttered  within 
her.  One  moment  her  eyes  were  at  the  window  scanning 
the  bustle  of  the  streets;  the  next  she  would  force  her- 
self to  talk  and  smile  with  Muriel  Colwood. 

Mrs.  Colwood  insisted  on  dinner  at  the  Charing  Cross 
Hotel.  Diana  submitted.  Afterward  they  made  their 
way,  along  the  departure  platform,  to  the  Dover-Calais 
train.  They  took  their  seats.  Muriel  Colwood  knew — 
felt  it  indeed,  through  every  nerve — that  the  girl  with 
her  was  still  watching,  still  hoping,  still  straining  each 
bodily  perception  in  a  listening  expectancy. 

310 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

The  train  was  very  full,  and  the  platform  crowded  with 
friends,  luggage,  and  officials.  Upon  the  tumult  the 
great  electric  lamps  threw  their  cold  ugly  light.  The 
roar  and  whistling  of  the  trains  filled  the  vast  station. 
Diana,  meanwhile,  sat  motionless  in  her  corner,  looking 
out,  one  hand  propping  her  face. 

But  no  one  came.  The  signal  was  given  for  departure. 
The  train  glided  out.  Diana's  head  slipped  back  and 
her  eyes  closed.  Muriel,  stifling  her  tears,  dared  not 
approach  her. 

Northward  and  eastward  from  Dover  Harbor,  sweep 
beyond  sweep,  rose  the  white  cliffs  that  are  to  the  ar- 
riving and  departing  Englishman  the  symbols  of  his 
country. 

Diana,  on  deck,  wrapped  in  veil  and  cloak,  watched 
them  disappear,  in  mists  already  touched  by  the  moon- 
rise.  Six  months  before  she  had  seen  them  for  the  first 
time,  had  fed  her  eyes  upon  the  "dear,  dear  land,"  as 
cliffs  and  fields  and  houses  flashed  upon  the  sight,  yearn- 
ing toward  it  with  the  passion  of  a  daughter  and  an 
exile. 

In  those  six  months  she  had  lived  out  the  first  chapter 
of  her  youth.  She  stood  between  two  shores  of  life,  like 
the  vessel  from  which  she  gazed;  vanishing  lights  and 
shapes  behind  her;  darkness  in  front. 

"Where  lies  the  land  to  which  the  ship  must  go? 
Far,  far  ahead  is  all  the  seamen  know!" 


Part   III 


"  Love's  eye  is  not  so  true  as  all  men's  :  no, 
How  can   it?    O  how  can  Love's  eye  be  true 
That  is  so  vexed  with  watching  and  with   tears?" 


CHAPTER  XV 

TONDON  was  in  full  season.  But  it  was  a  cold 
L,  May,  and  both  the  town  and  its  inhabitants  wore 
a  gray  and  pinched  aspect.  Under  the  east  wind  an 
unsavory  dust  blew  along  Piccadilly;  the  ladies  were 
still  in  furs;  the  trees  were  venturing  out  reluctantly, 
showing  many  a  young  leaf  bitten  by  night  frosts;  the 
Park  had  but  a  scanty  crowd;  and  the  drapers,  oppressed 
with  summer  goods,  saw  their  muslins  and  gauzes  in  the 
windows  give  up  their  freshness  for  naught. 

Nevertheless,  the  ferment  of  political  and  social  life 
had  seldom  been  greater.  A  Royal  wedding  in  the  near 
future  was  supposed  to  account  for  the  vigor  of  London's 
social  pulse;  the  streets,  indeed,  were  already  putting  up 
poles  and  decorations.  And  a  general  election,  expected 
in  the  autumn,  if  not  before,  accounted  for  the  vivacity 
of  the  clubs,  the  heat  of  the  newspapers,  and  the  energy 
of  the  House  of  Commons,  where  all-night  sittings  were 
lightly  risked  by  the  Government  and  recklessly  chal- 
lenged by  the  Opposition.  Everybody  was  playing  to 
the  gallery — i.e.,  the  country.  Old  members  were  woo- 
ing their  constituencies  afresh;  young  candidates  were 
spending  feverish  energies  on  new  hazards,  and  anxiously 
inquiring  at  what  particular  date  in  the  campaign  tea- 
parties  became  unlawful.  Great  issues  were  at  stake ;  for 
old  parties  were  breaking  up  under  the  pressure  of  new 
interests  and  passions ;  within  the  Liberal  party  the  bub- 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

bling  of  new  faiths  was  at  its  crudest  and  hottest;  and 
those  who  stood  by  the  slow  and  safe  ripening  of 
Freedom,  from  "precedent  to  precedent,"  were  in 
much  anxiety  as  to  what  shape  or  shapes  might  ulti- 
mately emerge  from  a  brew  so  strong  and  heady. 
Which  only  means  that  now,  as  always,  Whigs  and 
Radicals  were  at  odds;  and  the  "unauthorized  pro- 
gramme "  of  the  day  was  sending  its  fiery  cross 
through  the  towns  and  the  industrial  districts  of  the 
north. 

A  debate  of  some  importance  was  going  on  in  the 
House  of  Commons.  The  Tory  Government  had  brought 
in  a  Land  Bill,  intended,  no  doubt,  rather  as  bait  for 
electors  than  practical  politics.  It  was  timid  and  ill- 
drafted,  and  the  Opposition,  in  days  when  there  were 
still  some  chances  in  debate,  joyously  meant  to  kill  it, 
either  by  frontal  attack  or  by  obstruction.  But,  in  the 
opinion  of  the  Left  Wing  of  the  party,  the  chief  weapon 
of  its  killing  should  be  the  promise  of  a  much  larger  and 
more  revolutionary  measure  from  the  Liberal  side.  The 
powerful  Right  Wing,  however,  largely  represented  on 
the  front  bench,  held  that  you  could  no  more  make 
farmers  than  saints  by  Act  of  Parliament,  and  that  only 
by  slow  and  indirect  methods  could  the  people  be  drawn 
back  to  the  land.  There  was,  in  fact,  little  difference 
between  them  and  the  front  bench  opposite,  except  a 
difference  in  method;  only  the  Whig  brains  were  the 
keener;  and  in  John  Ferrier  the  Right  Wing  had  a 
personality  and  an  oratorical  gift  which  the  whole  Tory 
party  admired  and  envied. 

There  had  been  a  party  meeting  on  the  subject  of  the 
Bill,  and  Ferrier  and  the  front  bench  had,  on  the  whole, 
carried  the  indorsement  of  their  policy.  But  there  was 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

an  active  and  discontented  minority,  full  of  rebellious 
projects  for  the  general  election. 

On  this  particular  afternoon  Ferrier  had  been  dealing 
with  the  Government  Bill  on  the  lines  laid  down  by  the 
meeting  at  Grenville  House.  His  large  pale  face  (the 
face  of  a  student  rather  than  a  politician),  with  its 
small  eyes  and  overhanging  brows;  the  straight  hair 
and  massive  head;  the  heavy  figure  closely  buttoned  in 
the  familiar  frock-coat;  the  gesture  easy,  animated,  still 
young — on  these  well-known  aspects  a  crowded  House 
had  bent  its  undivided  attention.  Then  Ferrier  sat 
down;  a  bore  rose;  and  out  flowed  the  escaping  tide  to 
the  lobbies  and  the  Terrace. 

Marsham  found  himself  on  the  Terrace,  among  a 
group  of  malcontents:  Barton,  grim  and  unkempt, 
prophet-eyes  blazing,  mouth  contemptuous;  the  Scotch- 
man McEwart,  who  had  been  one  of  the  New  Year's 
visitors  to  Tally n,  tall,  wiry,  red-haired,  the  embodiment 
of  all  things  shrewd  and  efficient;  and  two  or  three 
more.  A  young  London  member  was  holding  forth, 
masking  what  was  really  a  passion  of  disgust  in  a 
slangy  nonchalance. 

"What's  the  good  of  turning  these  fellows  out — will 
anybody  tell  me? — if  that's  all  Ferrier  can  do  for  us? 
Think  I  prefer  'em  to  that  kind  of  mush !  As  for  Bar- 
ton, I've  had  to  hold  him  down  by  the  coat-tails!" 

Barton  allowed  the  slightest  glint  of  a  smile  to  show 
itself  for  an  instant.  The  speaker — Roland  Lankester — 
was  one  of  his  few  weaknesses.  But  the  frown  returned. 
He  strolled  along  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets  and 
his  eyes  on  the  ground;  his  silence  was  the  silence  of 
one  in  whom  the  fire  was  hot. 

"Most   disappointing  —  all  through!"  said  McEwart, 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

with  emphasis.  "The  facts  wrongly  chosen — the  argu- 
ment absurd.  It  '11  take  all  the  heart  out  of  our  fellows 
in  the  country." 

Marsham  looked  up. 

"Well,  it  isn't  for  want  of  pressure.  Ferriei's  life 
hasn't  been  worth  living  this  last  month." 

The  tone  was  ambiguous.  It  fitted  either  with  de- 
fence or  indictment. 

The  London  member — Roland  Lankester,  who  was 
a  friend  of  Marion  Vincent,  and  of  Frobisher,  represented 
an  East  End  constituency,  and  lived  there — looked  at 
the  speaker  with  a  laugh.  "That's  perfectly  true 
What  have  we  all  been  doing  but  'gingering'  Ferrier 
for  the  last  six  months?  And  here's  the  result!  No 
earthly  good  in  wearing  one's  self  to  fiddle-strings  over 
this  election!  I  shall  go  and  keep  pigs  in  Canada!" 

The  group  strolled  along  the  Terrace,  leaving  behind 
them  an  animated  crowd,  all  busy  with  the  same  subject. 
In  the  middle  of  it  they  passed  Ferrier  himself — flushed 
— with  the  puffy  eyes  of  a  man  who  never  gets  more 
than  a  quarter  allowance  of  sleep ;  his  aspect,  neverthe- 
less, smiling  and  defiant,  and  a  crowd  of  friends  round 
him.  The  wind  blew  chill  up  the  river,  crisping  the 
incoming  tide;  and  the  few  ladies  who  were  being 
entertained  at  tea  drew  their  furs  about  them,  shiv- 
ering. 

"He'll  have  to  go  to  the  Lords! — that's  flat — if  we 
win  this  election.  If  we  come  back,  the  new  members 
will  never  stand  him;  and  if  we  don't — well.  I  suppose, 
in  that  case,  he  does  as  well  as  anybody  else." 

The  remarks  were  McEwart's.  Lankester  turned  a 
sarcastic  eye  upon  him. 

"  Don't  you  be  unjust,  my  boy.     Femer's  one  of  the 


The    Testing   of   Diana    Mallorg 

smartest  Parliamentary  hands  England  has  ever  turned 
out." 

At  this  Barton  roused. 

"What's  the  good  of  that?"  he  asked,  with  quiet 
ferocity,  in  his  strong  Lancashire  accent.  "What  does 
Ferrier's  smartness  matter  to  us  ?  The  Labor  men  are 
sick  of  it!  All  he's  asked  to  do  is  to  run  straight/— as 
the  party  wants  him  to  run." 

"All  right.  Ad  leanest  Ferrier  to  the  Lords.  I'm 
agreeable.  Only  I  don't  know  what  Marsham  will  say 
to  it." 

Lankester  pushed  back  a  very  shabby  pot-hat  to  a  still 
more  rakish  angle,  buttoning  up  an  equally  shabby  coat 
the  while  against  the  east  wind.  He  was  a  tall  fair- 
haired  fellow,  half  a  Dane  in  race  and  aspect:  broad- 
shouldered,  loose-limbed,  with  a  Franciscan  passion  for 
poverty  and  the  poor.  But  a  certain  humorous  tolerance 
for  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  men,  together  with  certain 
spiritual  gifts,  made  him  friends  in  all  camps.  Bishops 
consulted  him,  the  Socialists  claimed  him;  perhaps  it 
was  the  East  End  children  who  possessed  him  most 
wholly.  Nevertheless,  there  was  a  fierce  strain  in  him; 
he  could  be  a  fanatic,  even  a  hard  fanatic,  on  occasion. 

Marsham  did  not  show  much  readiness  to  take  up 
the  reference  to  himself.  As  he  walked  beside  the  others, 
his  slender  elegance,  his  handsome  head,  and  fashionable 
clothes  marked  him  out  from  the  rugged  force  of  Bar- 
ton, the  middle-class  alertness  of  McEwart,  the  rubbed 
apostolicity  of  Lankester.  But  the  face  was  fretful  and 
worried. 

"  Ferrier  has  not  the  smallest  intention  of  going  to  the 
Lords!"  he  said,  at  last — not  without  a  touch  of  im- 
patience. 

319 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

"  That's  the  party's  affair." 

"  The  party  owes  him  a  deal  too  much  to  insist  upon 
anything  against  his  will." 

"  Does  it! — does  it!"  said  Lankester.  "  Ferrier  always 
reminds  me  of  a  cat  we  possessed  at  home,  who  brought 
forth  many  kittens.  She  loved  them  dearly,  and  licked 
them  all  over — tenderly — all  day.  But  by  the  end  of  the 
second  day  they  were  always  dead.  Somehow  she  had 
killed  them  all.  That's  what  Ferrier  does  with  all  our 
little  Radical  measures — loves  'em  all — and  kills  'em 
all." 

McEwart  flushed. 

"  Well,  it's  no  good  talking,"  he  said,  doggedly;  "  we've 
done  enough  of  that!  There  will  be  a  meeting  of  the 
Forward  Club  next  week,  and  we  shall  decide  on  our  line 
of  action." 

"Broadstone  will  never  throw  him  over."  Lankester 
threw  another  glance  at  Marsham.  "  You'll  only  waste 
your  breath." 

Lord  Broadstone  was  the  veteran  leader  of  the  party, 
who  in  the  event  of  victory  at  the  polls  would  undoubt- 
edly be  Prime  Minister. 

"  He  can  take  Foreign  Affairs,  and  go  to  the  Lords  in 
a  blaze  of  glory,"  said  McEwart.  "  But  he's  impossible! 
— as  leader  in  the  Commons.  The  party  wants  grit — 
not  dialectic." 

Marsham  still  said  nothing.  The  others  fell  to  dis- 
cussing the  situation  in  much  detail,  gradually  elaborat- 
ing what  were,  in  truth,  the  first  outlines  of  a  serious  cam- 
paign against  Ferrier's  leadership.  Marsham  listened, 
but  took  no  active  part  in  it.  It  was  plain,  however,  that 
none  of  the  group  felt  himself  in  any  way  checked  by 
Marsham' s  presence  or  silence. 

320 


The    Testing    of?    Diana    Mallorg 

Presently  Marsham — the  debate  in  the  House  having 
fallen  to  levels  of  dulness  "measureless  to  man" — re- 
membered that  his  mother  had  expressed  a  wish  that 
he  might  come  home  to  dinner.  He  left  the  House, 
lengthening  his  walk  for  exercise,  by  way  of  Whitehall 
and  Piccadilly.  His  expression  was  still  worried  and  pre- 
occupied. Mechanically  he  stopped  to  look  into  a  pict- 
ure-dealer's shop,  still  open,  somewhere  about  the  middle 
of  Piccadilly.  A  picture  he  saw  there  made  him  start. 
It  was  a  drawing  of  the  chestnut  woods  of  Vallombrosa, 
in  the  first  flush  and  glitter  of  spring,  with  a  corner  of 
one  of  the  monastic  buildings,  now  used  as  a  hotel. 

She  was  there.  At  an  official  crush  the  night  before 
he  had  heard  Chide  say  to  Lady  Niton  that  Miss  Mallory 
had  written  to  him  from  Vallombrosa,  and  was  hoping 
to  stay  there  till  the  end  of  June.  So  that  she  was 
sitting,  walking,  reading,  among  those  woods.  In  what 
mood  ? — -with  what  courage  ?  In  any  case,  she  was  alone ; 
fighting  her  grief  alone;  looking  forward  to  the  future 
alone.  Except,  of  course,  for  Mrs.  Colwood — nice,  de- 
voted little  thing! 

He  moved  on,  consumed  with  regrets  and  discomfort. 
During  the  two  months  which  had  elapsed  since  Diana 
had  left  England,  he  had,  in  his  own  opinion,  gone 
through  a  good  deal.  He  was  pursued  by  the  memory 
of  that  wretched  afternoon  when  he  had  debated  with 
himself  whether  he  should  not,  after  all,  go  and  intercept 
her  at  Charing  Cross,  plead  his  mother's  age  and  frail 
health,  implore  her  to  give  him  time;  not  to  break  off 
all  relations;  to  revert,  at  least,  to  the  old  friendship. 
He  had  actually  risen  from  his  seat  in  the  House  of 
Commons  half  an  hour  before  the  starting  of  the  train; 
had  made  his  way  to  the  Central  Lobby,  torn  by  in- 

321 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

decision;  and  had  there  been  pounced  upon  by  an  im- 
portant and  fussy  constituent  Of  course,  he  could 
have  shaken  the  man  off.  But  just  the  extra  resolution 
required  to  do  it  had  seemed  absolutely  beyond  his 
power,  and  when  next  he  looked  at  the  clock  it  was 
too  late.  He  went  back  to  the  House,  haunted  by  the 
imagination  of  a  face.  She  would  never  have  mentioned 
her  route  unless  she  had  meant  "Come  and  say  good- 
bye!"— unless  she  had  longed  for  a  parting  look  and 
word.  And  he — coward  that  he  was — had  shirked  it — 
had  denied  her  last  mute  petition. 

Well ! — after  all  —  might  it  not  simply  have  made 
matters  worse? — for  her  no  less  than  for  him?  The 
whole  thing  was  his  mother's  responsibility.  He  might, 
no  doubt,  have  pushed  it  all  through,  regardless  of  con- 
sequences; he  might  have  accepted  the  Juliet  Sparling 
heritage,  thrown  over  his  career,  braved  his  mother,  and 
carried  off  Diana  by  storm — if,  that  is,  she  would  ever 
have  allowed  him  to  make  the  sacrifice  as  soon  as  she 
fully  understood  it.  But  it  would  have  been  one  of  the 
most  quixotic  things  ever  done.  He  had  made  his  effort 
to  do  it;  and — frankly — he  had  not  been  capable  of 
it.  He  wondered  how  many  men  of  his  acquaintance 
would  have  been  capable  of  it. 

Nevertheless,  he  had  fallen  seriously  in  his  own  esti- 
mation. Nor  was  he  unaware  that  he  had  lost  a  certain 
amount  of  consideration  with  the  world  at  large.  His 
courtship  of  Diana  had  been  watched  by  a  great  many 
people :  and  at  the  same  moment  that  it  came  to  an  end 
and  she  left  England,  the  story  of  her  parentage  had 
become  known  in  Brookshire.  There  had  been  a  remark- 
able outburst  of  public  sympathy  and  pity,  testifying,  no 
doubt,  in  a  striking  way,  to  the  effect  produced  by  the 

322 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

girl's  personality,  even  in  those  few  months  of  residence. 
And  the  fact  that  she  was  not  there,  that  only  the  empty 
house  that  she  had  furnished  with  so  much  girlish  pleas- 
ure remained  to  bear  its  mute  testimony  to  her  grief, 
made  feeling  all  the  hotter.  Brookshire  beheld  her  as  a 
charming  and  innocent  victim,  and,  not  being  able  to 
tell  her  so,  found  relief  in  blaming  and  mocking  at  the 
man  who  had  not  stood  by  her.  For  it  appeared  there 
was  to  be  no  engagement,  although  all  Brookshire  had 
expected  it.  Instead  of  it,  came  the  announcement  of 
the  tragic  truth,  the  girl's  hurried  departure,  and  the 
passionate  feeling  on  her  behalf  of  people  like  the  Rough- 
sedges,  or  her  quondam  critic,  the  Vicar. 

Marsham,  thereupon,  had  become  conscious  of  a  wind 
of  unpopularity  blowing  through  his  constituency.  Some 
of  the  nice  women  of  the  neighborhood,  with  whom  he 
had  been  always  hitherto  a  welcome  and  desired  guest, 
had  begun  to  neglect  him;  men  who  would  never  have 
dreamed  of  allowing  their  own  sons  to  marry  a  girl  in 
Diana's  position,  greeted  him  with  a  shade  less  consid- 
eration than  usual ;  and  the  Liberal  agent  in  the  division 
had  suddenly  ceased  to  clamor  for  his  attendance  and 
speeches  at  rural  meetings.  There  could  be  no  question 
that  by  some  means  or  other  the  story  had  got  abroad 
— no  doubt  in  a  most  inaccurate  and  unjust  form — and 
was  doing  harm. 

Reflections  of  this  kind  were  passing  through  his 
mind  as  he  crossed  Hyde  Park  Corner  on  his  way  to 
Eaton  Square.  Opposite  St.  George's  Hospital  he  sud- 
denly became  aware  of  Sir  James  Chide  on  the  other 
side  of  the  road.  At  sight  of  him,  Marsham  waved 
his  hand,  quickening  his  pace  that  he  might  come  up 
with  him.  Sir  James,  seeing  him,  gave  him  a  perfunctory 

323 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

greeting,  and  suddenly  turned  aside  to  hail  a  hansom, 
into  which  he  jumped,  and  was  carried  promptly  out  of 
sight. 

Marsham  was  conscious  of  a  sudden  heat  in  the  face. 
He  had  never  yet  been  so  sharply  reminded  of  a  changed 
relation.  After  Diana's  departure  he  had  himself  writ- 
ten to  Chide,  defending  his  own  share  in  the  matter, 
speaking  bitterly  of  the  action  taken  by  his  mother  and 
sister,  and  lamenting  that  Diana  had  not  been  willing 
to  adopt  the  waiting  and  temporizing  policy,  which  alone 
offered  any  hope  of  subduing  his  mother's  opposition. 
Marsham  declared — persuading  himself,  as  he  wrote,  of 
the  complete  truth  of  the  statement — that  he  had  been 
quite  willing  to  relinquish  his  father's  inheritance  for 
Diana's  sake,  and  that  it  was  her  own  action  alone  that 
had  separated  them.  Sir  James  had  rather  coldly  ac- 
knowledged the  letter,  with  the  remark  that  few  words 
were  best  on  a  subject  so  painful;  and  since  then  there 
had  been  no  intimacy  between  the  two  men.  Marsham 
could  only  think  with  discomfort  of  the  scene  at  Felton 
Park,  when  a  man  of  passionate  nature  and  romantic 
heart  had  allowed  him  access  to  the  most  sacred  and 
tragic  memories  of  his  life.  Sir  James  felt,  he  supposed, 
that  he  had  been  cheated  out  of  his  confidence — cheated 
out  of  his  sympathy.  Well! — it  was  unjust! 

He  reached  Eaton  Square  in  good  time  for  dinner,  and 
found  his  mother  in  the  drawing-room. 

"  You  look  tired,  Oliver,"  she  said,  as  he  kissed  her. 

"It's  the  east  wind,  I  suppose — beastly  day!" 

Lady  Lucy  surveyed  him,  as  he  stood,  moody  and 
physically  chilled,  with  his  back  to  the  fire, 

"Was  the  debate  interesting?" 

324 


The    Testing   of    Diana    Mallorg 

"  Ferrier  made  a  very  disappointing  speech.  All  our 
fellows  are  getting  restive." 

Lady  Lucy  looked  astonished. 

"Surely  they  ought  to  trust  his  judgment!  He  has 
done  so  splendidly  for  the  party." 

Marsham  shook  his  head. 

"  I  wish  you  would  use  your  influence,"  he  said,  slowly. 
"  There  is  a  regular  revolt  coming  on.  A  large  number  of 
men  on  our  side  say  they  won't  be  led  by  him;  that  if 
we  come  in,  he  must  go  to  the  Lords." 

Lady  Lucy  started. 

"Oliver!"  she  said,  indignantly,  "you  know  it 
would  break  his  heart!" 

And  before  both  minds  there  rose  a  vision  of  Ferrier's 
future,  as  he  himself  certainly  conceived  it.  A  trium- 
phant election — the  Liberals  in  office — himself,  Chan- 
cellor of  the  Exchequer,  and  leader  of  the  Commons — 
with  the  reversion  of  the  Premiership  whenever  old  Lord 
Broadstone  should  die  or  retire — this  indeed  had  been 
Ferrier's  working  understanding  with  his  party  for  years; 
years  of  strenuous  labor,  and  on  the  whole  of  magnifi- 
cent generalship.  Deposition  from  the  leadership  of  the 
Commons,  with  whatever  compensations,  could  only 
mean  to  him,  and  to  the  world  in  general,  the  failure  of 
his  career. 

"They  would  give  him  Foreign  Affairs,  of  course," 
said  Marsham,  after  a  pause. 

"Nothing  that  they  could  give  him  would  make  up!" 
said  Lady  Lucy,  with  energy.  "  You  certainly,  Oliver, 
could  not  lend  yourself  to  any  intrigue  of  the  kind." 

Marsham  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"My  position  is  not  exactly  agreeable!  I  don't  agree 
with  Ferrier,  and  I  do  agree  with  the  malcontents. 

325 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

Moreover,  when  we  come  in,  they  will  represent  the 
strongest  element  in  the  party,  with  the  future  in  their 
hands." 

Lady  Lucy  looked  at  him  with  sparkling  eyes. 

"You  can't  desert  him,  Oliver! — not  you!" 

"Perhaps  I'd  better  drop  out  of  Parliament!"  he  said, 
impatiently.  "  The  game  sometimes  doesn't  seem  worth 
the  candle." 

Lady  Lucy — alarmed — laid  a  hand  on  his. 

"  Don't  say  those  things,  Oliver.  You  know  you  have 
never  done  so  well  as  this  year." 

"  Yes — up  to  two  months  ago." 

His  mother  withdrew  her  hand.  She  perfectly  under- 
stood. Oliver  often  allowed  himself  allusions  of  this 
kind,  arid  the  relations  of  mother  and  son  were  not 
thereby  improved. 

Silence  reigned  for  a  few  minutes.  With  a  hand 
that  shook  slightly,  Lady  Lucy  drew  toward  her  a  small 
piece  of  knitting  she  had  been  occupied  with  when 
Marsham  came  in,  and  resumed  it.  Meanwhile  there 
flashed  through  his  mind  one  of  those  recollections  that 
are  only  apparently  incongruous.  He  was  thinking  of  a 
dinner-party  which  his  mother  had  given  the  night  be- 
fore; a  vast  dinner  of  twenty  people;  all  well-fed,  pros- 
perous, moderately  distinguished,  and,  in  his  opinion,  less 
than  moderately  amused.  The  dinner  had  dragged ;  the 
guests  had  left  early;  and  he  had  come  back  to  the 
drawing-room  after  seeing  off  the  last  of  them,  stifled 
with  yawns.  Waste  of  food,  waste  of  money,  waste  of 
time  —  waste  of  everything !  He  had  suddenly  been 
seized  with  a  passionate  sense  of  the  dulness  of  his 
home  life;  with  a  wonder  how  long  he  could  go  on  sub- 
mitting to  it.  And  as  he  recalled  these  feelings — as  of 

326 


The   Testing    of  Diana   Mallorij 

dust  in  the  mouth— there  struck  across  them  an  image 
from  a  dream-world.  Diana  sat  at  the  head  of  the  long 
table;  Diana  in  white,  with  her  slender  neck,  and  the 
blue  eyes,  with  then*  dear  short-sighted  look,  her 
smile,  and  the  masses  of  her  dark  hair.  The  dull  faces 
on  either  side  faded  away;  the  lights,  the  flowers  were 
for  her — for  her  alone! 

He  roused  himself  with  an  effort.  His  mother  was 
putting  up  her  knitting,  which,  indeed,  she  had  only 
pretended  to  work  at. 

"We  must  go  and  dress,  Oliver.  Oh!  I  forgot  to  tell 
you — Alicia  arrived  an  hour  ago." 

"Ah!"  He  raised  his  eyebrows  indifferently.  "I 
hope  she's  well?" 

"Brilliantly  well — and  as  handsome  as  ever." 
"Any  love-affairs?" 

"Several,  apparently  —  but  nothing  suitable,"  said 
Lady  Lucy,  with  a  smile,  as  she  rose  and  gathered  to- 
gether her  possessions. 

"It's  time,  I  think,  that  Alicia  made  up  her  mind. 
She  has  been  out  a  good  while." 

It  gave  him  a  curious  pleasure — he  could  hardly  tell 
why — to  say  this  slighting  thing  of  Alicia.  After  all,  he 
had  no  evidence  that  she  had  done  anything  unfriendly 
or  malicious  at  the  time  of  the  crisis.  Instinctively,  he 
had  ranged  her  then  and  since  as  an  enemy — as  a  person 
who  had  worked  against  him.  But,  in  truth,  he  knew 
nothing  for  certain.  Perhaps,  after  the  foolish  passages 
between  them  a  year  ago,  it  was  natural  that  she  should 
dislike  and  be  critical  of  Diana.  As  to  her  coming  now, 
it  was  completely  indifferent  to  him.  It  would  be  a 
good  thing,  no  doubt,  for  his  mother  to  have  her  com- 
panionship. 

327 


The    Testing    of   Diana   Mallory 

As  he  opened  the  door  for  Lady  Lucy  to  leave  the 
room,  he  noticed  her  gray  and  fragile  look. 

"  I  believe  you  have  had  enough  of  London,  mother. 
You  ought  to  be  getting  abroad." 

"  I  am  all  right,"  said  Lady  Lucy,  hastily.  "  Like  you, 
I  hate  east  winds.  Oliver,  I  have  had  a  charming  letter 
from  Mr.  Heath." 

Mr.  Heath  had  been  for  some  months  Marsham's 
local  correspondent  on  the  subject  of  the  new  Liberal 
hall  in  the  county  town.  Lady  Lucy  had  recently  sent 
a  check  to  the  Committee,  which  had  set  all  their  build- 
ing anxieties  at  rest. 

Oliver  looked  down  rather  moodily  upon  her. 

"It's  pretty  easy  to  write  charming  letters  when 
people  send  you  money.  It  would  have  been  more  to 
the  purpose,  I  think,  if  they  had  taken  a  little  trouble  to 
raise  some  themselves  I" 

Lady  Lucy  flushed. 

"  I  don't  suppose  Dunscombe  is  a  place  with  many 
rich  people  in  it,"  she  said,  in  a  voice  of  protest,  as  she 
passed  him.  Her  thoughts  hurt  her  as  she  mounted 
the  stairs.  Oliver  had  not  received  her  gift — for,  after 
all,  it  was  a  gift  to  him — very  graciously.  And  the  same 
might  have  been  said  of  various  other  things  that  she 
had  tried  to  do  for  him  during  the  preceding  months. 

As  to  Marsham,  while  he  dressed,  he  too  recalled 
other  checks  that  had  been  recently  paid  for  him,  other 
anxious  attempts  that  had  been  made  to  please  him. 
Since  Diana  had  vanished  from  the  scene,  no  com- 
plaisance, no  liberality  had  been  too  much  for  his 
mother's  good- will.  He  had  never  been  so  conscious  of 
an  atmosphere  of  money — much  money.  And  there 
were  moments — what  he  himself  would  have  described 

328 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

as  morbid  moments — when  it  seemed  to  him  the  price 
of  blood;  when  he  felt  himself  to  be  a  mere,  crude  moral 
tale  embodied  and  walking  about.  Yet  how  ridiculous! 
What  reasonable  man,  knowing  what  money  means,  and 
the  power  of  it,  but  must  have  flinched  a  little  under 
such  a  test  as  had  been  offered  to  him?  His  flinching 
had  been  nothing  final  or  damnable.  It  was  Diana, 
who,  in  her  ignorance  of  the  world,  had  expected  him  to 
take  the  sacrifice  as  though  it  were  nothing  and  meant 
nothing — -as  no  honest  man  of  the  world,  in  fact,  could 
have  taken  it. 

When  Marsham  descended  he  found  Alicia  already  in 
possession  of  the  drawing-room.  Her  gown  of  a  brilliant 
shade  of  blue  put  the  room  out  of  joint,  and  beside  the 
startling  effect  of  her  hair,  all  the  washed-out  decoration 
and  conventional  ornament  which  it  contained  made  a 
worse  effect  than  usual.  There  was  nothing  conven- 
tional or  effaced  about  Alicia.  She  had  become  stead- 
ily more  emphatic,  more  triumphant,  more  self-con- 
fident. 

"Well,  what  have  you  been  doing  with  yourself? — 
nothing  but  politics?"  The  careless,  provocative  smile 
with  which  the  words  were  accomplished  roused  a  kind 
of  instant  antagonism  in  Marsham. 

"  Nothing — nothing,  at  least,  worth  anybody's  remem- 
bering." 

"You  spoke  at  Dunscombe  last  week." 

"I  did." 

"  And  you  went  to  help  Mr.  Collins  at  the  Sheffield  bye- 
election." 

"  I  did.  I  am  very  much  flattered  that  you  know  so 
much  about  my  movements." 

a»  329 


The   Testing    of   Diana   Mallory 

"  I  always  know  everything  that  you  are  doing,"  said 
Alicia,  quietly — "you,  and  Cousin  Lucy." 

"You  have  the  advantage  of  me  then";  his  laugh 
was  embarrassed,  but  not  amicable;  "for  I  am  afraid  I 
have  no  idea  what  you  have  been  doing  since  Easter!" 

"I  have  been  at  home,  flirting  with  the  Curate,"  said 
Alicia,  with  a  laugh.  As  she  sat,  with  her  head  thrown 
back  against  the  chair,  the  light  sparkling  on  her  white 
skin,  on  her  necklace  of  yellow  topazes,  and  the  iewelled 
fan  in  her  hands,  the  folds  of  blue  chiffon  billowing 
round  her,  there  could  be  no  doubt  of  her  effectiveness. 
Marsham  could  not  help  laughing,  too. 

"Charming  for  the  Curate!     Did  he  propose  to  you?" 

"Certainly.  I  think  we  were  engaged  for  twenty- 
four  hours." 

"That  you  might  see  what  it  was  like?    Et  aprksf" 

"  He  was  afraid  he  had  mistaken  my  character 

Marsham  laughed  out. 

"Poor  victim!    May  I  ask  what  you  did  it  for?" 

He  found  himself  looking  at  her  with  curiosity  and 
a  certain  anger.  To  be  engaged,  even  for  twenty-four 
hours,  means  that  you  allow  your  betrothed  the  privileges 
of  betrothal.  And  in  the  case  of  Alicia  no  man  was 
likely  to  forego  them.  She  was  really  a  little  too  un- 
scrupulous ! 

"  What  I  did  it  for  ?  He  was  so  nice  and  good-look- 
ingr 

"  And  there  was  nobody  else  ?" 

"  Nobody.     Home  was  a  desert." 

"H'm!"  said  Marsham.     "Is  he  broken-hearted?" 

Alicia  shrugged  her  shoulders  a  little. 

"  I  don't  think  so.  I  write  him  such  charming  letters. 
It  is  all  simmering  down  beautifully." 

330 


The   Testing    of  Diana    Mallory 

Marsham  moved  restlessly  to  and  fro,  first  putting 
down  a  lamp,  then  fidgeting  with  an  evening  paper. 
Alicia  never  failed  to  stir  in  him  the  instinct  of  sex,  in 
its  combative  and  critical  form;  and  hostile  as  he  be- 
lieved he  was  to  her,  her  advent  had  certainly  shaken 
him  out  of  his  depression. 

She  meanwhile  watched  him  with  her  teasing  eyes, 
apparently  enjoying  his  disapproval. 

"1  know  exactly  what  you  are  thinking,"  she  said, 
presently. 

"I  doubt  it." 

"Heartless  coquette!"  she  said,  mimicking  his  voice. 
"Never  mind — her  turn  will  come  presently!" 

"You  don't  allow  my  thoughts  much  originality." 

"Why  should  I?    Confess!— you  did  think  that?" 

Her  small  white  teeth  flashed  in  the  smile  she  gave 
him.  There  was  an  exuberance  of  life  and  spirits  about 
her  that  was  rather  disarming.  But  he  did  not  mean  to 
be  disarmed. 

"  I  did  not  think  anything  of  the  kind,"  he  said,  return- 
ing to  the  fire  and  looking  down  upon  her;  "simply  be- 
cause I  know  you  too  well." 

Alicia  reddened  a  little.  It  was  one  of  her  attractions 
that  she  flushed  so  easily. 

"Because  you  know  me  too  well?"  she  repeated. 
"  Let  me  see.  That  means  that  you  don't  believe  my 
turn  will  ever  come?" 

Marsham  smiled. 

"  Your  turn  for  what?"  he  said,  dryly. 

"I  think  we  are  getting  mixed  up!"  Her  laugh  was 
as  musical  as  he  remembered  it.  "Let's  begin  again. 
Ah!  here  comes  Cousin  Lucy!" 

Lady  Lucy  entered,  ushering  in  an  elderly  relation,  a 


The   Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

Miss  Falloden,  dwelling  also  in  Eaton  Square-,  a  com- 
fortable lady  with  a  comfortable  income;  a  social  stop- 
per of  chinks,  moreover ,  kind  and  talkative ;  who  was 
always  welcome  on  occasions  when  life  was  not  too 
strenuous  or  the  company  too  critical.  Marsham  offered 
her  his  arm,  and  the  little  party  made  its  way  to  the 
dining-room. 

"Do  you  go  back  to  the  House,  Oliver,  to-night?" 
asked  his  mother,  as  the  entree  went  round. 

He  replied  in  the  affirmative,  and  resumed  his  con- 
versation with  Alicia.  Sh^  was  teasing  him  on  the  sub- 
ject of  some  of  his  Labor  friends  in  the  House  of  Com- 
mons. It  appeared  that  she  had  made  the  Curate,  who 
was  a  Christian  Socialist,  take  her  to  a  Labor  Conference 
at  Bristol,  where  all  the  leaders  were  present,  and  her 
account  of  the  proceedings  and  the  types  was  both  amus- 
ing and  malicious.  It  was  the  first  time  that  Marsham 
had  known  her  attempt  any  conversation  of  the  kind,  and 
he  recognized  that  her  cleverness  was  developing.  But 
many  of  the  remarks  she  made  on  persons  well  known  to 
him  annoyed  him  extremely,  and  he  could  not  help  try- 
ing to  punish  her  for  them.  Alicia,  however,  was  not 
easily  punished.  She  evaded  him  with  a  mosquito-like 
quickness,  returning  to  the  charge  as  soon  as  he  imag- 
ined himself  to  have  scored  with  an  irrelevance  or  an 
absurdity  which  would  have  been  exasperating  in  a 
man,  but  had  somehow  to  be  answered  and  politely 
handled  from  a  woman.  He  lost  his  footing  continually ; 
and  as  she  had  none  to  lose,  she  had,  on  the  whole,  the 
best  of  it. 

Then — in  the  very  midst  of  it — he  remembered,  with 
a  pang,  another  skirmish,  another  battle  of  words — with 

332 


ALICIA,    UPRIGHT     IN     HER     CORNER OLIVER,    DEEP    IN    HIS 

ARM-CHAIR" 


The   Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

another  adversary,  in  a  different  scene.  The  thrill  of 
that  moment  in  the  Tallyn  drawing-room,  when  he  had 
felt  himself  Diana's  conqueror;  delighting  in  her  rosy 
surrender,  which  was  the  mere  sweet  admission  of  a 
girl's  limitations;  and  in  its  implied  appeal,  timid  and 
yet  proud,  to  a  victor  who  was  also  a  friend — all  this  he 
was  conscious  of,  by  association,  while  the  sparring  with 
Alicia  still  went  on.  His  tongue  moved  under  the  stimu- 
lus of  hers;  but  in  the  background  of  the  mind  rose  the 
images  and  sensations  of  the  past. 

Lady  Lucy,  meanwhile,  looked  on,  well  pleased.  She 
had  not  seen  Oliver  so  cheerful,  or  so  much  inclined  to 
talk,  since  "that  unfortunate  affair,"  and  she  was  pro- 
portionately grateful  to  Alicia. 

Marsham  returned  to  the  drawing-room  with  the 
ladies,  declaring  that  he  must  be  off  in  twenty  minutes. 
Alicia  settled  herself  in  a  corner  of  the  sofa,  and  played 
with  Lady  Lucy's  dog.  Marsham  endeavored,  for  a  lit- 
tle, to  do  his  duty  by  Miss  Falloden;  but  in  a  few  min- 
utes he  had  drifted  back  to  Alicia.  This  time  she  made 
him  talk  of  Parliament,  and  the  two  or  three  measures 
in  which  he  was  particularly  interested.  She  showed, 
indeed,  a  rather  astonishing  acquaintance  with  the  de- 
tails of  those  measures,  and  the  thought  crossed  Mar- 
sham's  mind:  "  Has  sLe  been  getting  them  up  ? — and 
why?"  But  the  idea  did  not  make  the  conversation  she 
offered  him  any  the  less  pleasant.  Quite  the  contrary. 
The  mixture  of  teasing  and  deference  which  she  showed 
him,  in  the  course  of  it,  had  been  the  secret  of  her  old 
hold  upon  him.  She  reasserted  something  of  it  now, 
and  he  was  not  unwilling.  During  the  morose  and  taci- 
turn phase  through  which  he  had  been  passing  there 
had  been  no  opportunity  or  desire  to  talk  of  himself, 

333 


The    Testing    of   Diana    Mallorij 

especially  to  a  woman.  But  Alicia  had  always  made  him 
talk  of  himself,  and  he  had  forgotten  how  agreeable  it 
might  be. 

He  threw  himself  down  beside  her,  and  the  time 
passed.  Lady  Lucy  and  Miss  Falloden  had  retired  into 
the  back  drawing-room,  where  the  one  knitted  and  the 
other  gossiped.  But  as  the  clock  struck  a  quarter  to 
eleven  Lady  Lucy  called,  in  some  astonishment:  "So 
you  are  not  going  back  to  the  House,  Oliver?" 

He  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"Heavens!"  He  looked  at  the  clock,  irresolute. 
"  Well,  there's  nothing  much  on,  mother.  I  don't  think 
I  need." 

And  he  subsided  again  into  his  chair  beside  Alicia. 

Miss  Falloden  looked  at  Lady  Lucy  with  a  meaning 
smile. 

"I  didn't  know  they  were  such  friends!"  she  said,  un- 
der her  breath. 

Lady  Lucy  made  no  reply.  But  her  eyes  travelled 
through  the  archway  dividing  the  two  rooms  to  the 
distant  figures  framed  within  it — Alicia,  upright  in  her 
corner,  the  red  gold  of  her  hair  shining  against  the  back- 
ground of  a  white  azalea ;  Oliver,  deep  in  his  arm-chair, 
his  long  legs  crossed,  his  hands  gesticulating. 

Lady  Niton's  sarcasms  recurred  to  her.  She  was  not 
sure  whether  she  welcomed  or  disliked  the  idea.  But, 
after  all,  why  not  ? 


CHAPTER  XVI 

ECCO,  Signorina!  il  Convento!" 
The  driver  reined  up  his  horse,  pointing  with  his 
whip. 

Diana  and  Muriel  Colwood  stood  up  eagerly  in  the 
carriage,  and  there  at  the  end  of  the  long  white  road, 
blazing  on  the  mountain-side,  terrace  upon  terrace,  arch 
upon  arch,  rose  the  majestic  pile  of  buildings  which  bears 
the  name  of  St.  Francis.  Nothing  else  from  this  point 
was  to  be  seen  of  Assisi.  The  sun,  descending  over  the 
mountain  of  Orvieto,  flooded  the  building  itself  with  a 
level  and  blinding  light,  while  upon  Monte  Subasio,  be- 
hind, a  vast  thunder-cloud,  towering  ift  the  southern 
sky,  threw  storm-shadows,  darkly  purple,  across  the 
mountain-side,  and  from  their  bosom  the  monastery,  the 
churches,  and  those  huge  substructures  which  make  the 
platform  on  which  the  convent  stands,  shone  out  in 
startling  splendor. 

The  travellers  gazed  their  fill,  and  the  carriage  clat- 
tered on. 

As  they  neared  the  town  and  began  to  climb  the  hill 
Diana  looked  round  her — at  the  plain  through  which  they 
had  come,  at  the  mountains  to  the  east,  at  the  dome  of 
the  Portiuncula.  Under  the  rushing  light  and  shade  of 
the  storm-clouds,  the  blues  of  the  hills,  the  young  green 
of  the  vines,  the  silver  of  the  olives,  rose  and  faded,  as  it 
were,  in  waves  of  color,  impetuous  and  magnificent. 

335 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

Only  the  great  golden  building,  crowned  by  its  double 
church,  most  famous  of  all  the  shrines  of  Italy,  glowed 
steadily,  amid  the  alternating  gleam  and  gloom — fit  guar- 
dian of  that  still  living  and  burning  memory  which  is 
St.  Francis. 

"We  shall  be  happy  here,  sha'n't  we?"  said  Diana, 
stealing  a  hand  into  her  companion's.  "  And  we  needn't 
hurry  away." 

She  drew  a  long  breath.  Muriel  looked  at  her  tenderly 
— enchanted  whenever  the  old  enthusiasm,  the  old  buoy- 
ancy reappeared.  They  had  now  been  in  Italy  for  nearly 
two  months.  Muriel  knew  that  for  her  companion  the 
time  had  passed  in  one  long  wrestle  for  a  new  moral 
and  spiritual  standing-ground.  All  the  glory  of  Italy 
had  passed  before  the  girl's  troubled  eyes  as  something 
beautiful  but  incoherent,  a  dream  landscape,  on  which 
only  now  and  then  her  full  consciousness  laid  hold. 
For  to  the  intenser  feeling  of  youth,  full  reality  belongs 
only  to  the  world  within ;  the  world  where  the  heart  loves 
and  suffers.  Diana's  true  life  was  there ;  and  she  did  not 
even  admit  the  loyal  and  gentle  woman  who  had  taken 
a  sister's  place  beside  her  to  a  knowledge  of  its  ebb  and 
flow.  She  bore  herself  cheerfully  and  simply;  went  to 
picture-galleries  and  churches ;  sketched  and  read — mak- 
ing no  parade  either  of  sorrow  or  of  endurance.  But  the 
impression  on  Mrs.  Colwood  all  the  time  was  of  a  des- 
perately struggling  soul  voyaging  strange  seas  of  grief 
alone.  She  sometimes  —  though  rarely  —  talked  with 
Muriel  of  her  mother's  case;  she  would  sometimes  bring 
her  friend  a  letter  of  her  father's,  or  a  fragment  of  journal 
from  that  full  and  tragic  store  which  the  solicitors  had 
now  placed  in  her  hands;  generally  escaping  afterward 
from  all  comment ;  only  able  to  bear  a  look,  a  pressure  of 

336 


The   Testing   of   Diana    Mallorg 

the  hand.  But,  as  a  rule,  she  kept  her  pain  out  of  sight. 
In  the  long  dumb  debate  with  herself  she  had  grown  thin 
and  pale.  There  was  nothing,  however,  to  be  done, 
nothing  to  be  said.  The  devoted  friend  could  only  watch 
and  wait.  Meanwhile,  of  Oliver  Marsham  not  a  word 
was  ever  spoken  between  them. 

The  travellers  climbed  the  hill  as  the  sun  sank  behind 
the  mountains,  made  for  the  Subasio  Hotel,  found  letters, 
and  ordered  rooms. 

Among  her  letters,  Diana  opened  one  from  Sir  James 
Chide.  "The  House  will  be  up  on  Thursday  for  the 
recess,  and  at  last  I  have  persuaded  Ferrier  to  let  me 
carry  him  off.  He  is  looking  worn  out,  and,  as  I  tell 
him,  will  break  down  before  the  election  unless  he  takes 
a  holiday  now.  So  he  comes  —  protesting.  We  shall 
probably  join  you  somewhere  in  Umbria — at  Perugia  or 
Assisi.  If  I  don't  find  you  at  one  or  the  other,  I  shall 
write  to  Siena,  where  you  said  you  meant  to  be  by  the 
first  week  in  June.  And,  by-the-way,  I  shouldn't  wonder 
if  Bobbie  Forbes  were  with  us.  He  amuses  Ferrier,  who 
is  very  fond  of  him.  But,  of  course,  you  needn't  sea 
anything  of  him  unless  you  like." 

The  letter  was  passed  on  to  Muriel,  who  thought  she 
perceived  that  the  news  it  contained  seemed  to  make 
Diana  shrink  into  herself.  She  was  much  attached  to 
Sir  James  Chide,  and  had  evidently  felt  pleasure  in  the 
expectation  of  his  coming  out  to  join  them.  But  Mr. 
Ferrier — and  Bobbie  Forbes — both  of  them  associated 
with  the  Marshams  and  Tallyn  ?  Mrs.  Colwood  noticed 
the  look  of  effort  in  the  girl's  delicate  face,  and  wished 
that  Sir  James  had  been  inspired  to  come  alone. 

After  unpacking,  there  still  remained  half  an  hour 

337 


The   Testing    of«   Diana    Mallorg 

before  dark.  They  hurried  out  for  a  first  look  at  the 
double  church. 

The  evening  was  cold  and  the  wind  chill.  Spring 
comes  tardily  to  the  high  mountain  town,  and  a  light 
powdering  of  snow  still  lay  on  the  topmost  slope  of  Monte 
Subasio.  Before  going  into  the  church  they  turned  up 
the  street  that  leads  to  the  Duomo  and  the  temple  of 
Minerva.  Assisi  seemed  deserted — a  city  of  ghosts.  Not 
a  soul  in  the  street,  not  a  light  in  the  windows.  On 
either  hand,  houses  built  of  a  marvellous  red  stone  or 
marble,  which  seemed  still  to  hold  and  radiate  the 
tempestuous  light  which  had  but  just  faded  from  them; 
the  houses  of  a  small  provincial  aristocracy,  immemori- 
ally  pld  like  the  families  which  still  possessed  them ;  close- 
paned,  rough-hewn,  and  poor — yet  showing  here  and 
there  a  doorway,  a  balcony,  a  shrine,  touched  with  divine 
beauty. 

"Where  are  all  the  people  gone  to?"  cried  Muriel, 
looking  at  the  secret  rose-colored  walls,  now  withdraw- 
ing into  the  dusk,  and  at  the  empty  street.  "  Not  a  soul 
anywhere!" 

Presently  they  came  to  an  open  doorway — above  it 
an  inscription — "Bibliotheca  dei  Studii  Franciscani. " 
Everything  stood  open  to  the  passer-by.  They  went 
in  timidly,  groped  their  way  to  the  marble  stairs,  and 
mounted.  All  void  and  tenantless!  At  the  top  of  the 
stairs  was  a  library  with  dim  bookcases  and  marble  floors 
and  busts;  but  no  custode — no  reader — not  a  sound! 

"We  seem  to  be  all  alone  here — with  St.  Francis!" 
said  Diana,  softly,  as  they  descended  to  the  street — "or 
is  everybody  at  church?" 

They  turned  their  steps  back  to  the  Lower  Church. 
As  they  went  in,  darkness — darkness  sudden  and  pro- 

338 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallortj 

found  engulfed  them.  They  groped  their  way  along  the 
outer  vestibule  or  transept,  finding  themselves  amid  a 
slowly  moving  crowd  of  peasants.  The  crowd  turned; 
they  with  it;  and  a  blaze  of  light  burst  upon  them. 

Before  them  was  the  nave  of  the  Lower  Church,  with 
its  dark-storied  chapels  on  either  hand,  itself  bathed  in  a 
golden  twilight,  with  figures  of  peasants  and  friars  walk- 
ing in  it,  vaguely  transfigured.  But  the  sanctuary  be- 
yond, the  altar,  the  walls,  and  low-groined  roof  flamed 
and  burned.  An  exposition  of  the  Sacrament  was  going 
on.  Hundreds  of  slender  candles  arranged  upon  and 
about  the  altar  in  a  blazing  pyramid  drew  from  the 
habitual  darkness  in  which  they  hide  themselves  Giotto's 
thrice  famous  frescos;  or  quickened  on  the  walls,  like 
flowers  gleaming  in  the  dawn,  the  loveliness  of  quiet 
faces,  angel  and  saint  and  mother,  the  beauty  of  draped 
folds  at  their  simplest  and  broadest,  a  fairy  magic  of 
wings  and  trumpets,  of  halos  and  crowns. 

Now  the  two  strangers  understood  why  they  had 
found  Assisi  itself  deserted;  emptied  of  its  folk  this 
quiet  eve.  Assisi  was  here,  in  the  church  which  is  at 
once  the  home  and  daily  spectacle  of  her  people.  Why 
stay  away  among  the  dull  streets  and  small  houses  of  the 
hill-side,  when  there  were  these  pleasures  of  eye  and  ear, 
this  sensuous  medley  of  light  and  color,  this  fellowship 
and  society,  this  dramatic  symbolism  and  movement, 
waiting  for  them  below,  in  the  church  of  their  fathers  ? 

So  that  all  were  here,  old  and  young,  children  and 
youths,  fathers  just  home  from  their  work,  mothers  with 
their  babies,  girls  with  their  sweethearts.  Their  happy 
yet  reverent  familiarity  with  the  old  church,  their  gay 
and  natural  participation  in  the  ceremony  that  was  go- 
ing on,  made  on  Diana's  alien  mind  the  effect  of  a  great 

339 


The  Testing    of   Diana    Mallorg 

multitude  crowding  to  salute  their  King.  There,  in  the 
midst,  surrounded  by  kneeling  acolytes  and  bending 
priests,  shone  the  Mystic  Presence.  Each  man  and  wom- 
an and  child,  as  they  passed  out  of  the  shadow  into  the 
light,  bent  the  knee,  then  parted  to  either  side,  each  to 
his  own  place,  like  courtiers  well  used  to  the  ways  of  a 
beautiful  and  familiar  pageantry. 

An  old  peasant  in  a  blouse  noticed  the  English  ladies, 
beckoned  to  them,  and  with  a  kind  of  gracious  authority 
led  them  through  dark  chapels,  till  he  had  placed  them  in 
the  open  space  that  spread  round  the  flaming  altar,  and 
found  them  seats  on  the  stone  ledge  that  girdles  the 
walls.  An  old  woman  saying  her  beads  looked  up  smil- 
ing and  made  room.  A  baby  or  two  ran  out  over  the 
worn  marble  flags,  gazed  up  at  the  gilt-and-silver  angels 
hovering  among  the  candles  of  the  altar,  and  was  there 
softly  captured — wide-eyed,  and  laughing  in  a  quiet 
ecstasy — by  its  watchful  mother. 

Diana  sat  down,  bewildered  by  the  sheer  beauty  of  a 
marvellous  and  incomparable  sight.  Above  her  head 
shone  the  Giotto  frescos,  the  immortal  four,  in  which 
the  noblest  legend  of  Catholicism  finds  its  loveliest  ex- 
pression, as  it  were  the  script,  itself  imperishable,  of  a 
dying  language,  to  which  mankind  will  soon  have  lost 
the  key. 

Yet  only  dying,  perhaps,  as  the  tongue  of  Cicero  died 
—to  give  birth  to  the  new  languages  of  Europe. 

For  in  Diana's  heart  this  new  language  of  the  spirit 
which  is  the  child  of  the  old  was  already  strong,  speak- 
ing through  the  vague  feelings  and  emotions  which  held 
her  spellbound.  What  matter  the  garment  of  dogma 
and  story? — the  raiment  of  pleaded  fact,  which  for  the 
modern  is  no  fact  ?  In  Diana,  as  in  hundreds  and  thou- 

340 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallorg 

sands  of  her  fellows,  it  had  become  —  unconsciously — 
without  the  torment  and  struggle  of  an  older  genera- 
tion—  Poetry  and  Idea;  and  all  the  more  invincible 
thereby. 

Above  her  head,  Poverty,  gaunt  and  terrible  in  her 
white  robe,  her  skirt  torn  with  brambles,  and  her  poor 
cheek  defaced  by  the  great  iron  hook  which  formerly 
upheld  the  Sanctuary  lamp,  married  with  St.  Francis — 
Christ  himself  joining  their  hands. 

So  Love  and  Sorrow  pledged  each  other  in  the  gleam- 
ing color  of  the  roof.  Divine  Love  spoke  from  the  altar, 
and  in  the  crypt  beneath  their  feet  which  held  the  tomb 
of  the  Poverello  the  ashes  of  Love  slept. 

The  girl's  desolate  heart  melted  within  her.  In  these 
weeks  of  groping,  religion  had  not  meant  much  to  her. 
It  had  been  like  a  bird-voice  which  night  silences.  All 
the  energy  of  her  life  had  gone  into  endurance.  But  now 
it  was  as  though  her  soul  plunged  into  the  freshness  of 
vast  waters,  which  upheld  and  sustained — without  effort. 
Amid  the  shadows  and  phantasms  of  the  church — -between 
the  faces-  on  the  walls  and  the  kneeling  peasants,  both 
equally  significant  and  alive — those  ghosts  of  her  own 
heart  that  moved  with  her  perpetually  in  the  life  of 
memory  stood,  or  knelt,  or  gazed,  with  the  rest:  the 
piteous  figure  of  her  mother;  her  father's  gray  hair  and 
faltering  step;  Oliver's  tall  youth.  Never  would  she 
escape  them  any  more ;  they  were  to  be  the  comrades  of 
her  life,  for  Nature  had  given  her  no  powers  of  forgetting. 
But  here,  in  the  shrine  of  St.  Francis,  it  was  as  though 
the  worst  smart  of  her  anguish  dropped  from  her.  From 
the  dark  splendor,  the  storied  beauty  of  the  church, 
voices  of  compassion  and  of  peace  spoke  to  her  pain ;  the 
waves  of  feeling  bore  her  on,  unresisting;  she  closed  her 

34? 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

eyes  against  the  lights,  holding  back  the  tears.     Life 
seemed  suspended,  and  suffering  ceased. 

"So  we  have  tracked  you!"  whispered  a  vcice  in  her 
ear.  She  looked  up  startled.  Three  English  travellers 
had  quietly  made  their  way  to  the  back  of  the  altar. 
Sir  James  Chide  stood  beside  her;  and  behind  him  the 
substantial  form  of  Mr.  Ferrier,  with  the  merry  snub- 
nosed  face  of  Bobbie  Forbes  smiling  over  the  great  man's 
shoulder. 

Diana  —  smiling  back  —  put  a  finger  to  her  lip ;  the 
service  was  at  its  height,  and  close  as  they  were  to  the 
altar  decorum  was  necessary.  Presently,  guided  by  her, 
they  moved  softly  on  to  a  remoter  and  darker  corner. 

"Couldn't  we  escape  to  the  Upper  Church?"  asked 
Chide  of  Diana. 

She  nodded,  and  led  the  way.  They  stole  in  and  out 
of  the  kneeling  groups  of  the  north  transept,  and  were 
soon  climbing  the  stairway  that  links  the  two  churches, 
out  of  sight  and  hearing  of  the  multitude  below.  Here 
there  was  again  pale  daylight.  Greetings  were  inter- 
changed, and  both  Chide  and  Ferrier  studied  Diana's 
looks  with  a  friendly  anxiety  they  did  their  best  to 
conceal.  Forbes  also  observed  Juliet  Sparling's  daugh- 
ter— hotly  curious — yet  also  hotly  sympathetic.  What 
a  story,  by  Jove! 

Their  footsteps  echoed  in  the  vast  emptiness  of  the 
Upper  Church.  Apparently  they  had  it  to  themselves. 

"  No  friars!"  said  Forbes,  looking  about  him.  "  That's 
a  blessing,  anyway!  You  can't  deny,  Miss  Mallory,  that 
they're  a  blot  on  the  landscape.  Or  have  you  been 
flattering  them  up,  as  all  the  other  ladies  do  who  come 
here?" 

342 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

"  We  have  only  just  arrived.  What's  wrong  with  the 
friars?"  smiled  Diana. 

"  Well,  we  arrived  this  morning,  and  I've  about  taken 
their  measure — though  Ferrier  won't  allow  it.  But  I  saw 
four  of  them — great  lazy,  loafing  fellows,  Miss  Mallory 
— much  stronger  than  you  or  me — being  dragged  up  these 
abominable  hills  —  four  of  'em — in  one  legno — with  one 
wretched  toast-rack  of  a  horse.  And  not  one  of  them 
thought  of  walking.  Each  of  them  with  his  brown 
petticoats,  and  an  umbrella  as  big  as  himself.  Ugh !  I 
offered  to  push  behind,  and  they  glared  at  me.  What 
do  you  think  St.  Francis  would  have  said  to  them? 
Kicked  them  out  of  that  legno,  pretty  quick,  I'll  bet 
you!" 

Diana  surveyed  the  typical  young  Englishman  in- 
dulging a  typically  Protestant  mood. 

"  I  thought  there  were  only  a  few  old  men  left,"  she 
said,  "and  that  it  was  all  very  sad  and  poetic?" 

"That  used  to  be  so,"  said  Ferrier,  glancing  round  the 
church,  so  as  to  make  sure  that  Chide  was  safely  occupied 
in  seeing  as  much  of  the  Giotto  frescos  on  the  walls  as 
the  fading  light  allowed.  "Then  the  Pope  won  a  law- 
suit. The  convent  is  now  the  property  of  the  Holy  See, 
the  monastery  has  been  revived,  and  the  place  seems  to 
swarm  with  young  monks.  However,  it  is  you  ladies  that 
ruin  them.  You  make  pretty  speeches  to  them,  and 
look  so  charmingly  devout." 

"There  was  a  fellow  at  San  Damiano  this  morning," 
interrupted  Bobbie,  indignantly;  "awfully  good-looking 
— and  the  most  affected  cad  I  ever  beheld.  I'd  like  to 
have  been  his  fag-master  at  Eton !  I  saw  him  making  eyes 
at  some  American  girls  as  we  came  in;  then  he  came 
posing  and  sidling  up  to  us,  and  gave  us  a  little  lecture  on 

343 


The   Testing   of    Diana    Mallorg 

'Ateismo.'  Ferrier  said  nothing — stood  there  as  meek 
as  a  lamb,  listening  to  him — looking  straight  at  him.  I 
nearly  died  of  laughing  behind  them." 

"Come  here,  Bobbie,  you  reprobate!"  cried  Chide 
from  a  distance.  "  Hold  your  tongue,  and  bring  me  the 
guide-book." 

Bobbie  strolled  off,  laughing. 

"Is  it  all  a  sham,  then,"  said  Diana,  looking  round 
her  with  a  smile  and  a  sigh:  "St.  Francis  —  and  the 
'Fioretti' — and  the  'Hymn  to  the  Sun'?  Has  it  all 
ended  in  lazy  monks — and  hypocrisy?" 

"Dante  asked  himself  the  same  question  eighty 
years  after  St.  Francis's  death.  Yet  here  is  this  divine 
church!" — Ferrier  pointed  to  the  frescoed  walls,  the  mar- 
vellous roof — "  here  is  immortal  art ! — and  here,  in  your 
mind  and  in  mine,  after  six  hundred  years,  is  a  memory — 
an  emotion — which,  but  for  St.  Francis,  had  never  been; 
by  which  indeed  we  judge  his  degenerate  sons.  Is  that 
not  achievement  enough — for  one  child  of  man?" 

"  Six  hundred  years  hence  what  modern  will  be  as 
much  alive  as  St.  Francis  is  now?"  Diana  wondered,  as 
they  strolled  on. 

He  turned  a  quiet  gaze  upon  her. 

"Darwin?     At  least  I  throw  it  out." 

"Darwin!"  Her  voice  showed  doubt  —  the  natural 
demur  of  her  young  ignorance  and  idealism. 

"  Why  not  ?  What  faith  was  to  the  thirteenth  century 
knowledge  is  to  us.  St.  Francis  rekindled  the  heart  of 
Europe,  Darwin  has  transformed  the  main  conception 
of  the  human  mind." 

In  the  dark  she  caught  the  cheerful  patience  of  the 
small  penetrating  eyes  as  they  turned  upon  her.  And  at 
the  same  time — strangely — she  became  aware  of  a  sudden 

344 


The   Testing    ofl   Diana   Mallory 

and  painful  impression;  as  though, -through  and  behind 
the  patience,  she  perceived  an  immense  fatigue  and  dis- 
couragement— an  ebbing  power  of  life — in  the  man  beside 
her. 

"Hullo!"  said  Bobbie  Forbes,  turning  back  toward 
them,  "  I  thought  there  was  no  one  else  here." 

For  suddenly  they  had  become  aware  of  a  tapping 
sound  on  the  marble  floor,  and  from  the  shadows  of  the 
eastern  end  there  emerged  two  figures:  a  woman  in 
front,  lame  and  walking  with  a  stick,  and  a  man  behind. 
The  cold  reflected  light  which  filled  the  western  half  of 
the  church  shone  full  on  both  faces.  Bobbie  Forbes  and 
Diana  exclaimed,  simultaneously.  Then  Diana  sped  along 
the  pavement. 

"Who ?"  said  Chide,  rejoining  the  other  two. 

"  Frobisher — and  Miss  Vincent,"  said  Forbes,  study- 
ing the  new-comers. 

"Miss  Vincent!"  Chide's  voice  showed  his  astonish- 
ment. "  I  thought  she  had  been  very  ill." 

"So  she  has,"  said  Ferrier — "very  ill.  It  is  amazing 
to  see  her  here." 

"And  Frobisher?" 

Ferrier  made  no  reply.  Chide's  expression  showed 
perplexity,  perhaps  a  shade  of  coldness.  In  him  a  warm 
Irish  heart  was  joined  with  great  strictness,  even  prudish- 
ness  of  manners,  the  result  of  an  Irish  Catholic  education 
of  the  old  type.  Young  women,  in  his  opinion,  could 
hardly  be  too  careful,  in  a  calumnious  world.  The  mod- 
ern flouting  of  old  decorums — small  or  great — found  no 
supporter  in  the  man  who  had  passionately  defended 
and  absolved  Juliet  Sparling. 

But  he  followed  the  rest  to  the  greeting  of  the  new- 
comers. Diana's  hand  was  in  Miss  Vincent's,  and  the 

"3  345 


The   Testing    of    Diana    Mallorij 

girl's  face  was  full  of  joy ;  Marion  Vincent,  deathly  white, 
her  eyes,  more  amazing,  more  alive  than  ever,  amid  the 
emaciation  that  surrounded  them,  greeted  the  party 
with  smiling  composure — neither  embarrassed,  nor  apol- 
ogetic— appealing  to  Frobisher  now  and  then  as  to  her 
travelling  companion — speaking  of  "our  week  at  Or- 
vieto" — making,  in  fact,  no  secret  of  an  arrangement 
which  presently  every  member  of  the  group  about  her 
— even  Sir  James  Chide — accepted  as  simply  as  it  was 
offered  to  them. 

As  to  Frobisher,  he  was  rather  silent,  but  no  more 
embarrassed  than  she.  It  was  evident  that  he  kept  an 
anxious  watch  lest  her  stick  should  slip  upon  the  marble 
floor,  and  presently  he  insisted  in  a  low  voice  that  she 
should  go  home  and  rest. 

"  Come  back  after  dinner,"  she  said  to  him,  in  the  same 
tone  as  they  emerged  on  the  piazza.  He  nodded,  and 
hurried  off  by  himself. 

"You  are  at  the  Subasio?"  The  speaker  turned  to 
Diana.  "So  am  I.  I  don't  dine — but  shall  we  meet 
afterward?" 

"And  Mr.  Frobisher?"  said  Diana,  timidly. 

"  He  is  staying  at  the  Leone.  But  I  told  him  to  come 
back." 

After  dinner  the  whole  party  met  in  Diana's  little 
sitting-room,  of  which  one  window  looked  to  the  con- 
vent, while  the  other  commanded  the  plain.  And  from 
the  second,  the  tenant  of  the  room  had  access  to  a  small 
terrace,  public,  indeed,  to  the  rest  of  the  hotel,  but  as 
there  were  no  other  guests  the  English  party  took  pos- 
session. 

Bobbie  stood  beside  the  terrace  window  with  Diana, 
gossiping,  while  Chide  and  Ferrier  paced  the  terrace 

346 


The    Testing    of   Diana    Mallorg 

with  their  cigars.  Neither  Miss  Vincent  nor  Frobisher 
had  yet  appeared,  and  Muriel  Colwood  was  making  tea. 
Bobbie  was  playing  his  usual  part  of  the  chatterbox, 
while  at  the  same  time  he  was  inwardly  applying  much 
native  shrewdness  and  a  boundless  curiosity  to  Diana 
and  her  affairs. 

Did  she  know — had  she  any  idea — that  in  London  at 
that  moment  she  was  one  of  the  main  topics  of  conversa- 
tion ? — in  fact,  the  best  talked-about  young  woman  of  the 
day  ? — that  if  she  were  to  spend  June  in  town — which  of 
course  she  would  not  do — she  would  find  herself  a  succes 
fou — people  tumbling  over  one  another  to  invite  her,  and 
make  a  show  of  her?  Everybody  of  his  acquaintance 
was  now  engaged  in  retrying  the  Wing  murder,  since 
that  statement  of  Chide's  in  the  Times.  No  one  talked 
of  anything  else,  and  the  new  story  that  was  now  tacked 
on  to  the  old  had  given  yet  another  spin  to  the  ball  of 
gossip. 

How  had  the  story  got  out  ?  Bobbie  believed  that  it 
had  been  mainly  the  doing  of  Lady  Niton.  At  any  rate, 
the  world  understood  perfectly  that  Juliet  Sparling's  in- 
nocent and  unfortunate  daughter  had  been  harshly 
treated  by  Lady  Lucy — and  deserted  by  Lady  Lucy's 
son. 

Queer  fellow,  Marsham ! — rather  a  fool,  too.  Why  the 
deuce  didn't  he  stick  to  it?  Lady  Lucy  would  have 
come  round;  he  would  have  gained  enormous  kudos, 
and  lost  nothing.  Bobbie  looked  admiringly  at  his  com- 
panion, vowing  to  himself  that  she  was  worth  fighting 
for.  But  his  own  heart  was  proof.  For  three  months 
he  had  been  engaged,  sub  rosa,  to  a  penniless  cousin. 
No  one  knew,  least  of  all  Lady  Niton,  who,  in  spite  of 
her  championship  of  Diana,  would  probably  be  furious 

347 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

when  she  did  know.  He  found  himself  pining  to  tell 
Diana;  he  would  tell  her  as  soon  as  ever  he  got  an 
opportunity.  Odd!  —  that  the  effect  of  having  gone 
through  a  lot  yourself  should  be  that  other  people  were 
strongly  drawn  to  unload  their  troubles  upon  you. 
Bobbie  felt  himself  a  selfish  beast;  but  all  the  same  his 
"  Ettie"  and  his  debts;  the  pros  and  cons  of  the  various 
schemes  for  his  future,  in  which  he  had. hitherto  allowed 
Lady  Niton  to  play  so  queer  and  tyrannical  a  part — all 
these  burned  on  his  tongue  till  he  could  confide  them  to 
Diana. 

Meanwhile  the  talk  strayed  to  Ferrier  and  politics — 
dangerous  ground!  Yet  some  secret  impulse  in  Diana 
drew  her  toward  it,  and  Bobbie's  curiosity  played  up. 
Diana  spoke  with  concern  of  the  great  man's  pallor  and 
fatigue.  "Not  to  be  wondered  at,"  said  Forbes,  "con- 
sidering the  tight  place  he  was  in,  or  would  soon  be  in." 
Diana  asked  for  explanations,  acting  a  part  a  little;  for 
since  her  acquaintance  with  Oliver  Marsham  she  had 
become  a  diligent  reader  of  newspapers.  Bobbie,  divin- 
ing her,  gave  her  the  latest  and  most  authentic  gossip  of 
the  clubs;  as  to  the  various  incidents  and  gradations  of 
the  now  open  revolt  of  the  Left  Wing ;  the  current  esti- 
mates of  Ferrier's  strength  in  the  country;  and  the  pros- 
pects of  the  coming  election. 

Presently  he  even  ventured  on  Marsham 's  name,  feel- 
ing instinctively  that  she  waited  for  it.  If  there  was 
any  change  in  the  face  beside  him  the  May  darkness 
concealed  it,  and  Bobbie  chattered  on.  There  was  no 
doubt  that  Marsham  was  in  a  difficulty.  All  his  sym- 
pathies at  least  were  with  the  rebels,  and  their  victory 
would  be  his  profit. 

"  Yet  as  every  one  knows  that  Marsham  is  under  great 
348 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

obligations  to  Ferrier,  for  him  to  join  the  conspiracy 
these  fellows  are  hatching  doesn't  look  pretty." 

"  He  won't  join  it!"  said  Diana,  sharply. 

"Well,  a  good  many  people  think  he's  in  it  already. 
Oh,  I  dare  say  it's  all  rot!"  the  speaker  added,  hastily; 
"  and,  besides,  it's  not  at  all  certaiin  that  Marsham  him- 
self will  get  in  next  time." 

"Get  in!"  It  was  a  cry  of  astonishment — passing  on 
into  constraint.  "I  thought  Mr.  Marsham's  seat  was 
absolutely  safe." 

"Not  it."  Bobbie  began  to  flounder.  "The  fact  is 
it's  not  safe  at  all;  it's  uncommonly  shaky.  He'll  have 
a  squeak  for  it.  They're  not  so  sweet  on  him  down  there 
as  they  used  to  be." 

Gracious! — if  she  were  to  ask  why!  The  young  man 
was  about  hastily  to  change  the  subject  when  Sir  James 
and  his  companion  came  toward  them. 

"  Can't  we  tempt  you  out,  Miss  Mallory  ?"  said  Ferrier. 
"There  is  a  marvellous  change!"  He  pointed  to  the 
plain  over  which  the  night  was  falling.  "  When  we  met 
you  in  the  church  it  was  still  winter,  or  wintry  spring. 
Now — in  two  hours — the  summer's  come!" 

And  on  Diana's  face,  as  she  stepped  out  to  join  him, 
struck  a  buffet  of  warm  air;  a  heavy  scent  of  narcissus 
rose  from  the  flower-boxes  on  the  terrace;  and  from  a 
garden  far  below  came  the  sharp  thin  prelude  of  a 
nightingale. 

For  about  half  an  hour  the  young  girl  and  the  veteran 
of  politics  walked  up  and  down — sounding  each  other— 
heart  reaching  out  to  heart — dumbly — behind  the  veil  of 
words.  There  was  a  secret  link  between  them.  The 
politician  was  bruised  and  weary — well  aware  that  just 

349 


The  Testing    of    Diana   Mallorg 

as  Fortune  seemed  to  have  brought  one  of  her  topmost 
prizes  within  his  grasp,  forces  and  events  were  gathering 
in  silence  to  contest  it  with  him.  Ferrier  had  been 
twenty- seven  years  in  the  House  of  Commons;  his  chief 
life  was  there,  had  always  been  there;  outside  that 
maimed  and  customary  pleasure  he  found,  besides,  a  wom- 
an now  white-haired.  To  rule — to  lead  that  House  had 
been  the  ambition  of  his  life.  He  had  earned  it;  had 
scorned  delights  for  it;  and  his  powers  were  at  their 
ripest. 

Yet  the  intrigue,  as  he  knew,  was  already  launched 
that  might,  at  the  last  moment,  sweep  him  from  his  goal. 
Most  of  the  men  concerned  in  it  he  either  held  for  hon- 
est fanatics  or  despised  as  flatterers  of  the  mob — ignobly 
pliant.  He  could  and  would  fight  them  all  with  good 
courage  and  fair  hope  of  victory. 

But  Lucy  Marsham's  son! — that  defection,  realized  or 
threatened,  was  beginning  now  to  hit  him  hard.  Amid 
all  their  disagreements  of  the  past  year  his  pride  had 
always  refused  to  believe  that  Marsham  could  ultimately 
make  common  cause  with  the  party  dissenters.  Ferrier 
had  hardly  been  able  to  bring  himself,  indeed,  to  take  the 
disagreements  seriously.  There  was  a  secret  impatience, 
perhaps  even  a  secret  arrogance,  in  his  feeling.  A  young 
man  whom  he  had  watched  from  his  babyhood,  had  put 
into  Parliament,  and  led  and  trained  there! — that  he 
should  take  this  hostile  and  harassing  line,  with  threat  of 
worse,  was  a  matter  too  sore  and  intimate  to  be  talked 
about.  He  did  not  mean  to  talk  about  it.  To  Lady 
Lucy  he  never  spoke  of  Oliver's  opinions,  except  in  a 
half-jesting  way;  to  other  people  he  did  not  speak  of 
them  at  all.  Ferrier's  affections  were  deep  and  silent. 
He  had  not  found  it  possible  to  love  the  mother  without 


The   Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

loving  the  son— had  played,  indeed,  a  father's  part  to  him 
since  Henry  Marsham's  death.  He  knew  the  brilliant, 
flawed,  unstable,  attractive  fellow  through  and  through. 
But  his  knowledge  left  him  still  vulnerable.  He  thought 
little  of  Oliver's  political  capacity;  and,  for  all  his  affec- 
tion, had  no  great  admiration  for  his  character.  Yet 
Oliver  had  power  to  cause  him  pain  of  a  kind  that  no 
other  of  his  Parliamentary  associates  possessed. 

The  letters  of  that  morning  had  brought  him  news  of 
an  important  meeting  in  Marsham's  constituency,  in 
which  his  leadership  had  been  for  the  first  time  openly 
and  vehemently  attacked.  Marsham  had  not  been  pres- 
ent at  the  meeting,  and  Lady  Lucy  had  written,  eagerly 
declaring  that  he  could  not  have  prevented  it  and  had  no 
responsibility.  But  could  the  thing  have  been  done 
within  his  own  borders  without,  at  least,  a  tacit  con- 
nivance on  his  part? 

The  incident  had  awakened  a  peculiarly  strong  feeling 
in  the  elder  man.  because  during  the  early  days  of  the 
recess  he  had  written  a  series  of  letters  to  Marsham 
on  the  disputed  matters  that  were  dividing  the  party; 
letters  intended  not  only  to  recall  Marsham's  own  alle- 
giance, but — through  him — to  reach  two  of  the  leading 
dissidents  —  Lankester  and  Barton  —  in  particular,  for 
whom  he  felt  a  strong  personal  respect  and  regard. 

These  letters  were  now  a  cause  of  anxiety  to  him. 
His  procedure  in  writing  them  had  been,  of  course,  en- 
tirely correct.  It  is  the  business  of  a  party  leader  to 
persuade.  But  he  had  warned  Oliver  from  the  beginning 
that  only  portions  of  them  could  or  should  be  used  in  the 
informal  negotiations  they  were  meant  to  help.  Ferrier 
had  always  been  incorrigibly  frank  in  his  talk  or  corre- 
spondence with  Marsham,  ever  since  the  days  when  as 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

an  Oxford  undergraduate,  bent  on  shining  at  the  Union, 
Oliver  had  first  shown  an  interest  in  politics,  and  had 
found  in  Ferrier,  already  in  the  front  rank,  the  most 
stimulating  of  teachers.  These  remarkable  letters  ac- 
cordingly contained  a  good  deal  of  the  caustic  or  humor- 
ous discussion  of  Parliamentary  personalities,  in  which 
Ferrier — Ferrier  at  his  ease — excelled;  and  many  pas- 
sages, besides,  in  connection  with  the  measures  desired 
by  the  Left  Wing  of  the  party,  steeped  in  the  political 
pessimism,  whimsical  or  serious,  in  which  Ferrier  showed 
perhaps  his  most  characteristic  side  at  moments  of 
leisure  or  intimacy;  while  the  moods  expressed  in  out- 
breaks of  the  kind  had  little  or  no  effect  on  his  pugnacity 
as  a  debater  or  his  skill  as  a  party  strategist,  in  face  of 
the  enemy. 

But,  by  George!  if  they  were  indiscreetly  shown,  or 
repeated,  some  of  those  things  might  blow  up  the  party! 
Ferrier  uncomfortably  remembered  one  or  two  instances 
during  the  preceding  year,  in  which  it  had  occurred 
to  him — as  the  merest  fleeting  impression — that  Oliver 
had  repeated  a  saying  or  had  twisted  an  opinion  of  his 
unfairly — puzzling  instances,  in  which,  had  it  been  any 
one  else,  Ferrier  would  have  seen  the  desire  to  snatch 
a  personal  advantage  at  his,  Ferrier's,  expense.  But 
how  entertain  such  a  notion  in  the  case  of  Oliver! 
Ridiculous! 

He  would  write  no  more  letters,  however.  With  the 
news  of  the  Dunscombe  meeting  the  relations  between 
himself  and  Oliver  entered  upon  a  new  phase.  Toward 
Lucy's  son  he  must  bear  himself — politically — hencefor- 
ward, not  as  the  intimate  confiding  friend  or  foster- 
father,  but  as  the  statesman  with  greater  interests  than 
his  own  to  protect.  This  seemed  to  him  clear;  yet  the 

352 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

effort  to  adjust  his  mind  to  the  new  conditions  gave  him 
deep  and  positive  pain. 

But  what,  after  all,  were  his  grievances  compared  with 
those  of  this  soft-eyed  girl  ?  It  pricked  his  conscience  to 
remember  how  feebly  he  had  fought  her  battle.  She 
must  know  that  he  had  done  little  or  nothing  for  her; 
yet  there  was  something  peculiarly  gentle,  one  might 
have  thought  pitiful,  in  her  manner  toward  him.  His 
pride  winced  under  it. 

Sir  James,  too,  must  have  his  private  talk  with  Diana 
— when  he  took  her  to  the  farther  extremity  of  the  little 
terrace,  and  told  her  of  the  results  and  echoes  which  had 
followed  the  publication,  in  the  Times,  of  Wing's  dying 
statement. 

Diana  had  given  her  sanction  to  the  publication  with 
trembling  and  a  torn  mind.  Justice  to  her  mother  re- 
quired it.  There  she  had  no  doubt;  and  her  will,  there- 
fore, hardened  to  the  act,  and  to  the  publicity  which  it 
involved.  But  Sir  Francis  Wing's  son  was  still  living, 
and  what  for  her  was  piety  must  be  for  him  stain  and 
dishonor.  She  did  not  shrink;  but  the  compunctions 
she  could  not  show  she  felt;  and,  through  Sir  James 
Chide,  she  had  written  a  little  letter  which  had  done 
something  to  soften  the  blow,  as  it  affected  a  dull  yet 
not  inequitable  mind. 

"Does  he  forgive  us?"  she  asked,  in  a  low  voice,  turn- 
ing her  face  toward  the  Umbrian  plain,  with  its  twinkling 
lights  below,  its  stars  above. 

"  He  knows  he  must  have  done  the  same  in  our  place," 
said  Sir  James. 

After  a  minute  he  looked  at  her  closely  under  the 
electric  light  which  dominated  the  terrace. 

353 


The  Testing    of   Diana   Mallorg 

"I  am  afraid  you  have  been  going  through  a  great 
deal,"  he  said,  bending  over  her.  "  Put  it  from  you  when 
you  can.  You  don't  know  how  people  feel  for  you." 

She  looked  up  with  her  quick  smile. 

"I  don't  always  think  of  it — and  oh!  I  am  so  thank- 
ful to  know!  I  dream  of  them  often — my  father  and 
mother — but  not  unhappily.  They  are  mine — much, 
much  more  than  they  ever  were." 

She  clasped  her  hands,  and  he  felt  rather  than  saw  the 
exaltation,  the  tender  fire  in  her  look. 

All  very  well !  But  this  stage  would  pass — must  pass. 
She  had  her  own  life  to  live.  And  if  one  man  had  be- 
haved like  a  selfish  coward,  all  the  more  reason  to  invoke, 
to  hurry  on  the  worthy  and  the  perfect  lover. 

Presently  Marion  Vincent  appeared,  and  with  her 
Frobisher,  and  an  unknown  man  with  a  magnificent 
brow,  dark  eyes  of  a  remarkable  vivacity,  and  a  Southern 
eloquence  both  of  speech  and  gesture.  He  proved  to  be 
a  famous  Italian,  a  poet  well  known  to  European  fame, 
who,  having  married  an  English  wife,  had  settled  himself 
at  Assisi  for  the  study  of  St.  Francis  and  the  Franciscan 
literature.  He  became  at  once  the  centre  of  a  circle 
which  grouped  itself  on  the  terrace,  while  he  pointed  to 
spot  after  spot,  dimly  white  on  the  shadows  of  the  moon- 
lit plain,  linking  each  with  the  Franciscan  legend  and  the 
passion  of  Franciscan  poetry.  The  slopes  of  San  Damiano, 
the  sites  of  Spello,  Bevagna,  Cannara;  Rivo  Torto,  the 
hovering  dome  of  the  Portiuncula,  the  desolate  uplands 
that  lead  to  the  Carceri;  one  after  another,  the  scenes  and 
images — grotesque  or  lovely  —  simple  or  profound — of 
the  vast  Franciscan  story  rose  into  life  under  his  touch, 
till  they  generated  in  those  listening  the  answer  of  the 

354 


The   Testing    of    Diana   Mallorg 

soul  of  to-day  to  the  soul  of  the  Poverello.  Poverty, 
misery,  and  crime — still  they  haunt  the  Umbrian  villages 
and  the  Assisan  streets;  the  shadows  of  them,  as  the  north 
knows  them,  lay  deep  and  terrible  in  Marion  Vincent's 
eyes.  But  as  the  poet  spoke  the  eternal  protest  and 
battle-cry  of  Humanity  swelled  up  against  them — over- 
flowed, engulfed  them.  The  hearts  of  some  of  his  listen- 
ers burned  within  them. 

And  finally  he  brought  them  back  to  the  famous  legend 
of  the  hidden  church:  deep,  deep  in  the  rock — below  the 
two  churches  that  we  see  to-day;  where  St.  Francis 
waits — standing,  with  his  arms  raised  to  heaven,  on  fire 
with  an  eternal  hope,  an  eternal  ecstasy. 

"  Waits  for  what?"  said  Ferrier,  under  his  breath,  for- 
getting his  audience  a  moment.  "  The  death  of  Catholi- 
cism?" 

Sir  James  Chide  gave  an  uneasy  cough.  Ferrier, 
startled,  looked  round,  threw  his  old  friend  a  gesture  of 
apology  which  Sir  James  mutely  accepted.  Then  Sir 
James  got  up  and  strolled  away,  his  hands  in  his  pockets, 
toward  the  farther  end  of  the  terrace. 

The  poet  meanwhile,  ignorant  of  this  little  incident, 
and  assuming  the  sympathy  of  his  audience,  raised  his 
eyebrows,  smiling,  as  he  repeated  Ferrier's  words: 

"The  death  of  Catholicism!  No,  Signer! — its  second 
birth."  And  with  a  Southern  play  of  hand  and  feature 
— the  nobility  of  brow  and  aspect  turned  now  on  this 
listener,  now  on  that — he  began  to  describe  the  revival 
of  faith  in  Italy. 

"Ten  years  ago  there  was  not  faith  enough  in  this 
country  to  make  a  heresy!  On  the  one  side,  a  moribund 
organization,  poisoned  by  a  dead  philosophy;  on  the 
Other,  negation,  license,  weariness — a  dumb  thirst  for 

355 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

men  knew  not  what.  And  now! — if  St.  Francis  were 
here — in  every  olive  garden — in  each  hill  town — on  the 
roads  and  the  by-ways — on  the  mountains — in  the  plains 
-—his  heart  would  greet  the  swelling  of  a  new  tide  draw- 
ing inward  to  this  land — the  breath  of  a  new  spring 
kindling  the  buds  of  life.  He  would  hear  preached 
again,  in  the  language  of  a  new  day,  his  own  religion  of 
love,  humility,  and  poverty.  The  new  faith  springs 
from  the  very  heart  of  Catholicism,  banned  and  perse- 
cuted as  new  faiths  have  always  been;  but  every  day  it 
lives,  it  spreads!  Knowledge  and  science  walk  hand  in 
hand  with  it;  the  future  is  before  it.  It  spreads  in 
tales  and  poems,  like  the  Franciscan  message;  it  pene- 
trates the  priesthood ;  it  passes  like  the  risen  body  of  the 
Lord  through  the  walls  of  seminaries  and  episcopal  pal- 
aces; through  the  bulwarks  that  surround  the  Vatican 
itself.  Tenderly,  yet  with  an  absolute  courage,  it  puts 
aside  old  abuses,  old  ignorances! — like  St.  Francis,  it 
holds  out  its  hand  to  a  spiritual  bride — and  the  name 
of  that  bride  is  Truth!  And  in  his  grave  within  the 
rock  —  on  tiptoe  —  the  Poverello  listens — the  Poverello 
smiles!" 

The  poet  raised  his  hand  and  pointed  to  the  convent 
pile,  towering  under  the  moonlight.  Diana's  eyes  filled 
with  tears.  Sir  James  had  come  back  to  the  group, 
his  face,  with  its  dignified  and  strenuous  lines,  bent  — 
half  perplexed,  half  frowning — on  the  speaker.  And  the 
magic  of  the  Umbrian  night  stole  upon  each  quickened 
pulse. 

But  presently,  when  the  group  had  broken  up  and 
Ferrier  was  once  more  strolling  beside  Diana,  he  said 
to  her: 

"A  fine  prophecy!     But  I  had  a  letter  this  morning 
356 


The  Testing    of*    Diana    Mallorg 

from  another  Italian  writer.  It  contains  the  following 
passage:  'The  soul  of  this  nation  is  dead.  The  old 
enthusiasms  are  gone.  We  have  the  most  selfish,  the 
most  cynical  bourgeoisie  in  Europe.  Happy  the  men  of 
1860!  They  had  some  illusions  left  —  religion,  mon- 
archy, country.  We  too  have  men  who  would  give 
themselves — if  they  could.  But  to  what  ?  No  one  wants 
them  any  more — nessuno  li  vuole  piu!'  Well,  there  are 
the  two.  Which  will  you  believe?" 

"The  poet!"  said  Diana,  in  a  low  faltering  voice. 
But  it  was  no  cry  of  triumphant  faith.  It  was  the  typ- 
ical cry  of  our  generation  before  the  closed  door  that 
openeth  not. 

"That  was  good,"  said  Marion  Vincent,  as  the  last  of 
the  party  disappeared  through  the  terrace  window,  and 
she  and  Diana  were  left  alone — "but  this  is  better." 

She  drew  Diana  toward  her,  kissed  her,  and  smiled 
at  her.  But  the  smile  wrung  Diana's  heart. 

"  Why  have  you  been  so  ill  ? — and  I  never  knew!"  She 
wrapped  a  shawl  round  her  friend,  and,  holding  her 
hands,  gazed  into  her  face. 

"It  was  all  so  hurried — there  was  so  little  time  to 
think  or  remember.  But  now  there  is  time." 

"  Now  you  are  going  to  rest? — and  get  well?" 

Marion  smiled  again. 

"  I  shall  have  holiday  for  a  few  months — then  rest." 

"  You  won't  live  any  more  in  the  East  End  ?  You'll 
come  to  me — in  the  country?"  said  Diana,  eagerly. 

"  Perhaps!  But  I  want  to  see  all  I  can  in  my  holiday 
—before  I  rest!  All  my  life  I  have  lived  in  London. 
There  has  been  nothing  to  see — but  squalor.  Do  you 
know  that  I  have  lived  next  door  to  a  fried-fish  shop  for 

357 


The   Testing    otf  Diana   Mallory 

twelve  years?  But  now — think! — I  am  in  Italy — and 
we  are  going  to  the  Alps — and  we  shall  stay  on  Lake 
Como — and — and  there  is  no  end  to  our  plans — if  only 
my  holiday  is  long  enough." 

What  a  ghost  face! — and  what  shining  eyes! 

"Oh,  but  make  it  long  enough!"  pleaded  Diana, 
laying  one  of  the  emaciated  hands  against  her  cheek, 
and  smitten  by  a  vague  terror. 

"That  does  not  depend  on  me,"  said  Marion,  slowly. 

"Marion,"  cried   Diana,  "tell  me   what  you  mean!" 

Marion  hesitated  a  moment,  then  said,  quietly: 

"  Promise,  dear,  to  take  it  quite  simply — just  as  I  tell 
it.  I  am  so  happy.  There  was  an  operation — six  weeks 
ago.  It  was  quite  successful  —  I  have  no  pain.  The 
doctors  give  me  seven  or  eight  months.  Then  my  enemy 
will  come  back — and  my  rest  with  him." 

A  cry  escaped  Diana  as  she  buried  her  face  in  her 
friend's  lap.  Marion  kissed  and  comforted  her. 

"If  you  only  knew  how  happy  I  am!"  she  said,  in  a 
low  voice.  "Ever  since  I  was  a  child  I  seem  to  have 
fought — fought  hard  for  every  step — every  breath.  I 
fought  for  bread  first — and  self-respect — for  myself — 
then  for  others.  One  seemed  to  be  hammering  at  shut 
gates  or  climbing  precipices  with  loads  that  dragged 
one  down.  Such  trouble  always!"  she  murmured, 
with  closed  eyes — "such  toil  and  anguish  of  body  and 
brain!  And  now  it  is  all  over!" — she  raised  herself 
joyously — "  I  am  already  on  the  farther  side.  I  am  like 
St.  Francis — waiting.  And  meanwhile  I  have  a  dear 
friend — who  loves  me.  I  can't  let  him  marry  me.  Pain 
and  disease  and  mutilation — of  all  those  horrors,  as  far 
as  I  can,  he  shall  know  nothing.  He  shall  not  nurse 
me;  he  shall  only  love  and  lead  me.  But  I  have  been 

358 


The    Testing    of  Diana  Mallorg 

thirsting  for  beautiful  things  all  my  life — and  he  is  giv- 
ing them  to  me.  I  have  dreamed  of  Italy  since  I 
was  a  baby,  and  here  I  am!  I  have  seen  Rome  and 
Florence.  We  go  on  to  Venice.  And  next  week  there 
will  be  mountains  —  and  snow-peaks  —  rivers  —  forests 
— flowers — " 

Her  voice  sank  and  died  away.  Diana  clung  to  her, 
weeping,  in  a  speechless  grief  and  reverence.  At  the 
same  time  her  own  murdered  love  cried  out  within  her, 
and  in  the  hot  despair  of  youth  she  told  herself  that  life 
was  as  much  finished  for  her  as  for  this  tired  saint — this 
woman  of  forty — who  had  borne  since  her  babyhood  the 
burdens  of  the  poor. 


CHAPTER   XVII 

THE  Whitsuntide  recess  passed — for  the  wanderers 
in  Italy — in  a  glorious  prodigality  of  sun,  a  rushing 
of  bud  and  leaf  to  "feed  in  air,"  a  twittering  of  birds,  a 
splendor  of  warm  nights,  which  for  once  indorsed  the 
traditional  rhapsodies  of  the  poets.  The  little  party  of 
friends  which  had  met  at  Assisi  moved  on  together  to 
Siena  and  Perugia,  except  for  Marion  Vincent  and 
Frobisher.  They  quietly  bade  farewell,  and  went  their 
way. 

When  Marion  kissed  Diana  at  parting,  she  said,  with 
emphasis : 

"Now,  remember! — you  are  not  to  come  to  London! 
You  are  not  to  go  to  work  in  the  East  End.  I  forbid 
it!  You  are  to  go  home  —  and  look  lovely — and  be 
happy!" 

Diana's  eyes  gazed  wistfully  into  hers. 

"I  am  afraid — I  hadn't  thought  lately  of  coming  to 
London,"  she  murmured.  "I  suppose — I'm  a  coward. 
And  just  now  I  should  be  no  good  to  anybody." 

"All  right.  I  don't  care  for  your  reasons — so  long  as 
you  go  home — and  don't  uproot." 

Marion  held  her  close.  She  had  heard  all  the  girl's 
story,  had  shown  her  the  most  tender  sympathy.  And 
on  this  strange  wedding  journey  of  hers  she  knew  that 
she  carried  with  her  Diana's  awed  love  and  yearning 
remembrance. 

360 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

But  now  she  was  eager  to  be  gone— to  be  alone  again 
with  her  best  friend,  in  this  breathing-space  that  re- 
mained to  them. 

So  Diana  saw  them  off— the  shabby,  handsome  man, 
with  his  lean,  proud,  sincere  face,  and  the  woman,  so 
frail  and  white,  yet  so  indomitable.  They  carried  vari- 
ous bags  and  parcels,  mostly  tied  up  with  string,  which 
represented  all  their  luggage;  they  travelled  with  the 
peasants,  fraternizing  with  them  where  they  could;  and 
it  was  useless,  as  Diana  saw,  to  press  luxuries  on  either 
of  them.  Many  heads  turned  to  look  at  them,  in  the 
streets  or  on  the  railway  platform.  There  was  some- 
thing tragic  in  their  aspect ;  yet  not  a  trace  of  abject- 
ness;  nothing  that  asked  for  pity.  When  Diana  last 
caught  sight  of  them,  Marion  had  a  contadino's  child 
on  her  knee,  in  the  corner  of  a  third-class  carriage,  and 
Frobisher  opposite  —  he  spoke  a  fluent  Italian  —  was 
laughing  and  jesting  with  the  father.  Marion,  smiling, 
waved  her  hand,  and  the  train  bore  them  away. 

The  others  moved  to  Perugia,  and  the  hours  they 
spent  together  in  the  high  and  beautiful  town  were  for 
all  of  them  hours  of  well-being.  Diana  was  the  centre 
of  the  group.  In  the  eyes  of  the  three  men  her  story 
invested  her  with  a  peculiar  and  touching  interest.  Their 
knowledge  of  it,  and  her  silent  acceptance  of  their  knowl- 
edge, made  a  bond  between  her  and  them  which  showed 
itself  in  a  hundred  ways.  Neither  Ferrier,  nor  Chide, 
nor  young  Forbes  could  ever  do  too  much  for  her,  or 
think  for  her  too  loyally.  And,  on  the  other  hand,  it 
was  her  inevitable  perception  of  their  unspoken  thoughts 
which  gave  her  courage  toward  them — a  kind  of  freedom 
which  it  is  very  difficult  for  women  to  feel  or  exercise  in 

34  361 


The   Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

the  ordinary  circumstances  of  life.  She  gave  them  each 
— gratefully — a  bit  of  her  heart,  in  different  ways. 

Bobbie  had  adopted  her  as  elder  sister,  having  none 
of  his  own;  and  by  now  she  knew  all  about  his  en- 
gagement, his  distaste  for  the  Foreign  Office,  his  lack  of 
prospects  there,  and  his  determination  to  change  it  for 
some  less  expensive  and  more  remunerative  calling.  But 
Lady  Niton  was  the  dragon  in  the  path.  She  had  all 
sorts  of  ambitious  projects  for  him,  none  of  which,  ac- 
cording to  Forbes,  ever  came  off,  there  being  always 
some  better  fellow  to  be  had.  Diplomacy,  in  her  eyes, 
was  the  natural  sphere  of  a  young  man  of  parts  and 
family,  and  as  for  the  money,  if  he  would  only  show  the 
smallest  signs  of  getting  on,  she  would  find  it.  But  in 
the  service  of  his  country  Bobbie  showed  no  signs  what- 
ever of  "getting  on."  He  hinted  uncomfortably,  in  his 
conversations  with  Diana,  at  the  long  list  of  his  obliga- 
tions to  Lady  Niton — money  lent,  influence  exerted,  ser- 
vices of  many  kinds — spread  over  four  or  five  years,  ever 
since,  after  a  chance  meeting  in  a  country-house,  she  had 
appointed  herself  his  earthly  providence,  and  he — an  or- 
phan of  good  family,  with  a  small  income  and  extrava- 
gant tastes — had  weakly  accepted  her  bounties. 

"  Now,  of  course,  she  insists  on  my  marrying  somebody 
with  money.  As  if  any  chaperon  would  look  at  me! 
Two  years  ago  I  did  make  up  to  a  nice  girl — a  real  nice 
girl — and  only  a  thousand  a  year! — nothing  so  tremen- 
dous, after  all.  But  her  mother  twice  carried  her  off,  in 
the  middle  of  a  rattling  ball,  because  she  had  engaged 
herself  to  me — just  like  sending  a  naughty  child  to  bed ! 
And  the  next  time  the  mother  made  me  take  her  down 
to  supper,  and  expounded  to  me  her  view  of  a  chaperon's 
duties:  'My  business,  Mr.  Forbes' — you  should  have 

362 


The   Testing   of    Diana   Mallory 

seen  her  stony  eye — '  is  to  mar,  not  to  make.  The  suit- 
able marriages  make  themselves  or  are  made  in  heaven. 
I  have  nothing  to  do  with  them,  except  to  keep  a  fair 
field.  The  unsuitable  marriages  have  to  be  prevented, 
and  will  be  prevented.  You  understand  me?'  'Per- 
fectly/ I  said.  'I  understand  perfectly.  To  mar  is 
human,  and  to  make  divine?  Thank  you.  Have  some 
more  jelly  ?  No  ?  Shall  I  ask  for  your  carriage  ?  Good- 
night.' But  Lady  Niton  won't  believe  a  word  of  it! 
She  thinks  I've  only  to  ask  and  have.  She'll  be  rude  to 
Ettie,  and  I  shall  have  to  punch  her  head — metaphori- 
cally. And  how  can  you  punch  a  person's  head  when 
they've  lent  you  money?" 

Diana  could  only  laugh,  and  commend  him  to  his 
Ettie,  who,  to  judge  from  her  letters,  was  a  girl  of  sense, 
and  might  be  trusted  to  get  him  out  of  his  scrape. 

Meanwhile,  Ferrier,  the  man  of  affairs,  statesman, 
thinker,  and  pessimist,  found  in  his  new  friendship  with 
Diana  at  once  that  "agreement,"  that  relaxation,  which 
men  of  his  sort  can  only  find  in  the  society  of  those 
women  who,  without  competing  with  them,  can -yet  by 
sympathy  and  native  wit  make  their  companionship 
abundantly  worth  while;  and  also,  a  means,  as  it  were, 
of  vicarious  amends,  which  he  very  eagerly  took. 

He  was,  in  fact,  ashamed  for  Lady  Lucy;  humiliated, 
moreover,  by  his  own  small  influence  with  her  in  a  vital 
matter.  And  both  shame  and  humiliation  took  the  form 
of  tender  consideration  for  Lady  Lucy's  victim. 

It  did  not  at  all  diminish  the  value  of  his  kindness, 
that — most  humanly — it  largely  showed  itself  in  what 
many  people  would  have  considered  egotistical  confes- 
sions to  a  charming  girl.  Diana  found  a  constant  distrac- 

363 


The   Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

tion,  a  constant  interest,  in  listening.  Her  solitary  life 
with  her  scholar  father  h  id  prepared  her  for  such  a  friend. 
In  the  overthrow  of  love  and  feeling,  she  bravely  tried  to 
pick  up  the  threads  of  the  old  intellectual  pleasures. 
And  both  Ferrier  and  Chide,  two  of  the  ablest  men  of 
their  generation,  were  never  tired  of  helping  her  thus  to 
recover  herself.  Chide  was  an  admirable  story-teller ; 
and  his  mere  daily  life  had  stored  him  with  tales, 
humorous  and  grim;  while  Ferrier  talked  history  and 
poetry,  as  they  strolled  about  Siena  or  Perugia;  and, 
as  he  sat  at  night  among  the  letters  of  the  day,  had  a 
score  of  interesting  or  amusing  comments  to  make  upon 
the  politics  of  the  moment.  He  reserved  his  "confes- 
sions," of  course,  for  the  t§te-b-tete  of  country  walks.  It 
was  then  that  Diana  seemed  to  be  holding  in  her  girlish 
hands  something  very  complex  and  rare;  a  nature  not 
easily  to  be  understood  by  one  so  much  younger.  His 
extraordinary  gifts,  his  disinterested  temper,  his  as- 
tonishing powers  of  work  raised  him  in  her  eyes  to 
heroic  stature.  And  then  some  very  human  weakness, 
some  natural  vanity,  such  as  wives  love  and  foster  in 
their  husbands,  but  which,  in  his  case  appeared  mere- 
ly forlorn  and  eccentric — some  deep  note  of  loneliness 
—  would  touch  her  heart,  and  rouse  her  pity.  He 
talked  generally  with  an  amazing  confidence,  not  un- 
touched perhaps  with  arrogance,  of  the  political  struggle 
before  him;  believed  he  should  carry  the  country  with 
him,  and  impose  his  policy  on  a  divided  party.  Yet 
again  and  again,  amid  the  flow  of  hopeful  speculation, 
Diana  became  aware,  as  on  the  first  evening  of  Assisi,  of 
some  hidden  and  tragic  doubt,  both  of  fate  and  of  him- 
self, some  deep-rooted  weariness,  against  which  the 
energy  of  his  talk  seemed  to  be  perpetually  reacting  and 

364 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

protesting.  And  the  solitariness  and  meagreness  of  his 
life  in  all  its  personal  and  domestic  aspects  appalled  her. 
She  saw  him  often  as  a  great  man — a  really  great  man — 
yet  starved  and  shelterless — amid  the  storms  that  were 
beating  up  around  him. 

The  friendship  between  him  and  Chide  appeared  to  be 
very  close,  yet  not  a  little  surprising.  They  were  old 
comrades  in  Parliament,  and  Chide  was  in  the  main  a 
whole-hearted  supporter  of  Ferrier's  policy  and  views; 
resenting  in  particular,  as  Diana  soon  discovered,  Mar- 
sham's  change  of  attitude.  But  the  two  men  had  hardly 
anything  else  in  common.  Ferrier  was  an  enormous 
reader,  most  variously  accomplished;  while  his  political 
Whiggery  was  balanced  by  a  restless  scepticism  in  phi- 
losophy and  religion.  For  the  rest  he  was  an  ascetic,  even 
in  the  stream  of  London  life;  he  cared  nothing  for  most 
of  the  ordinary  amusements;  he  played  a  vile  hand  at 
whist  (bridge  had  not  yet  dawned  upon  a  waiting  world) ; 
he  drank  no  wine,  and  was  contentedly  ignorant  both  of 
sport  and  games. 

Chide,  on  the  other  hand,  was  as  innocent  of  books  as 
Lord  Palmerston.  All  that  was  necessary  for  his  career 
as  a  great  advocate  he  could  possess  himself  of  in  the 
twinkling  of  an  eye;  his  natural  judgment  and  acuteness 
were  of  the  first  order;  his  powers  of  eloquence  among 
the  most  famous  of  his  time;  but  it  is  doubtful  whether 
Lady  Niton  would  have  found  him  much  better  informed 
about  the  politics  of  her  youth  than  Barton  himself;  Sir 
James,  too,  was  hazy  about  Louis  Philippe,  and  could 
never  remember,  in  the  order  of  Prime  Ministers,  whether 
Canning  or  Lord  Liverpool  came  first.  With  this,  he 
was  a  simple  and  devout  Catholic ;  loved  on  his  holiday 
to  serve  the  mass  of  some  poor  priest  in  a  mountain 

365 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

valley;  and  had  more  than  once  been  known  to  carry 
off  some  lax  Catholic  junior  on  his  circuit  to  the  per- 
formance of  his  Easter  duties,  willy-nilly — by  a  mixture 
of  magnetism  and  authority.  For  all  games  of  chance 
he  had  a  perfect  passion;  would  play  whist  all  night, 
and  conduct  a  case  magnificently  all  day.  And  although 
he  was  no  sportsman  in  the  ordinary  sense,  having  had 
no  opportunities  in  a  very  penurious  youth,  he  had  an 
Irishman's  love  of  horseflesh,  and  knew  the  Derby  win- 
ners from  the  beginning  with  as  much  accuracy  as 
Macaulay  knew  the  Senior  Wranglers. 

Yet  the  two  men  loved,  respected,  and  understood  each 
other.  Diana  wondered  secretly,  indeed,  whether  Sir 
James  could  have  explained  to  her  the  bond  between 
Ferrier  and  Lady  Lucy.  That,  to  her  inexperience,  was 
a  complete  mystery !  Almost  every  day  Ferrier  wrote  to 
Tallyn,  and  twice  a  week  at  least,  as  the  letters  were 
delivered  at  table  d'hdte,  Diana  could  not  help  seeing  the 
long  pointed  writing  on  the  thin  black -edged  paper 
which  had  once  been  for  her  the  signal  of  doom.  She 
hardly  suspected,  indeed,  how  often  she  herself  made  the 
subject  of  the  man's  letters.  Ferrier  wrote  of  her  per- 
sistently to  Lady  Lucy,  being  determined  that  so  much 
punishment  at  least  should  be  meted  out  to  that  lady. 
The  mistress  of  Tallyn,  on  her  side,  never  mentioned  the 
name  of  Miss  Mallory.  All  the  pages  in  his  letters  which 
concerned  her  might  never  have  been  written,  and  he  was 
well  aware  that  not  a  word  of  them  would  ever  reach 
Oliver.  Diana's  pale  and  saddened  beauty;  the  dignity 
which  grief,  tragic  grief,  free  from  all  sordid  or  ignoble 
elements,  can  infuse  into  a  personality;  the  affection  she 
inspired,  the  universal  sympathy  that  was  felt  for  her: 
he  dwelt  on  these  things,  till  Lady  Lucy,  exasperated, 

366 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallorg 

could  hardly  bring  herself  to  open  the  envelopes  which 
contained  his  lucubrations.  Could  any  subject,  in  cor- 
respondence with  herself,  be  more  unfitting  or  more 
futile  ? — and  what  difference  could  it  all  possibly  make 
to  the  girl's  shocking  antecedents  ? 

One  radiant  afternoon,  after  a  long  day  of  sight-seeing, 
Diana  and  Mrs.  Colwood  retreated  to  their  rooms  to 
write  letters  and  to  rest;  Forbes  was  hotly  engaged  in 
bargaining  for  an  Umbrian  primitif,  which  he  had  just 
discovered  in  an  old  house  in  a  back  street,  whither,  no 
doubt,  the  skilful  antiquario  had  that  morning  transport- 
ed it  from  his  shop;  and  Sir  James  had  gone  out  for  a 
stroll,  on  the  splendid  road  which  winds  gradually  down 
the  hill  on  which  Perugia  stands,  to  the  tomb  of  the 
Volumnii,  on  the  edge  of  the  plain,  and  so  on  to  Assisi 
and  Foligno,  in  the  blue  distance. 

Half-way  down  he  met  Ferrier,  ascending  from  the 
tomb.  Sir  James  turned,  and  they  strolled  back  to- 
gether. The  Umbrian  landscape  girdling  the  superb 
town  showed  itself  unveiled.  Every  gash  on  the  torn 
white  sides  of  the  eastern  Apennines,  every  tint  of  purple 
or  porcelain-blue  on  the  nearer  hills,  every  plane  of  the 
smiling  valley  as  it  wound  southward,  lay  bathed  in  a 
broad  and  searching  light  which  yet  was  a  light  of  beauty 
— of  infinite  illusion. 

"  I  must  say  I  have  enjoyed  my  life,"  said  Ferrier, 
abruptly,  as  they  paused  to  look  back,  "  though  I  don't 
put  it  altogether  in  the  first  class!" 

Sir  James  raised  his  eyebrows — smiled — and  did  not 
immediately  reply. 

"Chide,  old  fellow,"  Ferrier  resumed,  turning  to  him, 
"before  I  left  England  I  signed  my  will.  Do  you 

367 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

object  that  I  have  named  you  one  of  the  two  execu- 
tors?" 

Sir  James  gave  him  a  cordial  glance. 

"  All  right,  I'll  do  my  best — if  need  arises.  I  suppose, 
Johnnie,  you're  a  rich  man?" 

The  name  "Johnnie,"  very  rarely  heard  between  them, 
went  back  to  early  days  at  the  Bar,  when  Ferrier  was 
for  a  time  in  the  same  chambers  with  the  young  Irishman 
who,  within  three  years  of  being  called,  was  making  a 
large  income;  whereas  Ferrier  had  very  soon  convinced 
himself  that  the  Bar  was  not  for  him,  nor  he  for  the  Bar, 
and  being  a  man  of  means  had  "plumped"  for  politics. 

"Yes,  I'm  not  badly  off,"  said  Ferrier;  "I'm  almost 
the  last  of  my  family ;  and  a  lot  of  money  has  found  its 
way  to  me  first  and  last.  It's  been  precious  difficult  to 
know  what  to  do  with  it.  If  Oliver  Marsham  had  stuck 
to  that  delightful  girl  I  should  have  left  it  to  him." 

Sir  James  made  a  growling  sound,  more  expressive 
than  articulate. 

"  As  it  is, "  Ferrier  resumed,  "  I  have  left  half  of  it 
to  my  old  Oxford  college,  and  half  to  the  University." 

Chide  nodded.  Presently  a  slight  flush  rose  in  his 
very  clear  complexion,  and  he  looked  round  on  his  com- 
panion with  sparkling  eyes. 

"  It  is  odd  that  you  should  have  started  this  subject. 
I  too  have  just  signed  a  new  will." 

"Ah!"  Ferrier's  broad  countenance  showed  a  very 
human  curiosity.  "I  believe  you  are  scarcely  more 
blessed  with  kindred  than  I?" 

"No.  In  the  main  I  could  please  myself.  I  have 
left  the  bulk  of  what  I  had  to  leave — to  Miss  Mallory." 

"Excellent!"  cried  Ferrier.  "She  treats  you  already 
like  a  daughter." 

368 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

"  She  is  very  kind  to  me,"  said  Sir  James,  with  a  touch 
of  ceremony  that  became  him.  "And  there  is  no  one 
in  whom  1  feel  a  deeper  interest." 

"She  must  be  made  happy!"  exclaimed  Ferrier — "she 
must!  Is  there  no  one — besides  Oliver?" 

Sir  James  drew  himself  up.  "I  hope  she  has  put  all 
thought  of  Oliver  out  of  her  mind  long  since.  Well! — 
I  had  a  letter  from  Lady  Felton  last  week — dear  woman 
that! — all  the  love-affairs  in  the  county  come  to  roost 
in  her  mind.  She  talks  of  young  Roughsedge.  Per- 
haps you  don't  know  anything  of  the  gentleman?" 

He  explained,  so  far  as  his  own  knowledge  went. 
Ferrier  listened  attentively.  A  soldier  ?  Good.  Hand- 
some, modest,  and  capable? — better.  Had  just  distin- 
guished himself  in  this  Nigerian  expedition — mentioned 
in  despatches  last  week.  Better  still ! — so  long  as  he  kept 
clear  of  the  folly  of  allowing  himself  to  be  killed.  But 
as  to  the  feelings  of  the  young  lady? 

Sir  James  sighed.  "  I  sometimes  see  in  her  traces  of 
— of  inheritance — which  make  one  anxious." 

Ferrier's  astonishment  showed  itself  in  mouth  and  eyes. 

"  What  I  mean  is, "  said  Sir  James,  hastily,  "  a  dra- 
matic, impassioned  way  of  looking  at  things.  It  would 
never  do  if  she  were  to  get  any  damned  nonsense  about 
'expiation,'  or  not  being  free  to  marry,  into  her  head." 

Ferrier  agreed,  but  a  little  awkwardly,  since  the 
"damned  nonsense"  was  Lady  Lucy's  nonsense,  and 
both  knew  it. 

They  walked  slowly  back  to  Assisi,  first  putting  their 
elderly  heads  together  a  little  further  on  the  subject  of 
Diana,  and  then  passing  on  to  the  politics  of  the  mo- 
ment— to  the  ever  present  subject  of  the  party  revolt, 
and  its  effect  on  the  election. 

369 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

"Pshaw! — let  them  attack  you  as  they  please!"  said 
Chide,  after  they  had  talked  awhile.  "You  are  safe 
enough.  There  is  no  one  else.  You  are  like  the  hero 
in  a  novel,  'the  indispensable."1 

Ferrier  laughed. 

"  Don't  be  so  sure.  There  is  always  a  '  supplanter ' — 
when  the  time  is  ripe." 

"  Where  is  he  ?     Who  is  he  ?" 

"I  had  a  very  curious  letter  from  Lord  Philip  this 
morning,"  said  Ferrier,  thoughtfully. 

Chide 's  expression  changed. 

Lord  Philip  Darcy,  a  brilliant  but  quite  subordinate 
member  of  the  former  Liberal  Government,  had  made 
but  occasional  appearances  in  Parliament  during  the  five 
years'  rule  of  the  Tories.  He  was  a  traveller  and  ex- 
plorer, and  when  in  England  a  passionate  votary  of  the 
Turf.  An  incisive  tongue,  never  more  amusing  than 
when  it  was  engaged  in  railing  at  the  English  workman 
and  democracy  in  general,  a  handsome  person,  and  a 
strong  leaning  to  Ritualism — these  qualities  and  distinc- 
tions had  not  for  some  time  done  much  to  advance  his 
Parliamentary  position.  But  during  the  preceding  ses- 
sion he  had  been  more  regular  in  his  attendance  at  the 
House,  and  had  made  a  considerable  impression  there — 
as  a  man  of  eccentric,  but  possibly  great  ability.  On  the 
whole,  he  had  been  a  loyal  supporter  of  Ferrier's;  but  in 
two  or  three  recent  speeches  there  had  been  signs  of 
coquetting  with  the  extremists. 

Ferrier,  having  mentioned  the  letter,  relapsed  into 
silence.  Sir  James,  with  a  little  contemptuous  laugh, 
inquired  what  the  nature  of  the  letter  might  be. 

"Oh,  well,  he  wants  certain  pledges."  Ferrier  drew 
the  letter  from  his  pocket,  and  handed  it  to  his  friend. 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallortj 

Sir  James  perused  it,  and  handed  it  back  with  a  sarcastic 
lip. 

"He  imagines  you  are  going  to  accept  that  pro- 
gramme?" 

"  I  don't  know.  But  it  is  clear  that  the  letter  implies 
a  threat  if  I  don't." 

"  A  threat  of  desertion ?     Let  him." 

"  That  letter  wasn't  written  off  his  own  bat.  There  is 
a  good  deal  behind  it.  The  plot,  in  fact,  is  thickening. 
From  the  letters  of  this  morning  I  see  that  a  regular 
press  campaign  is  beginning." 

He  mentioned  two  party  papers  which  had  already 
gone  over  to  the  dissidents — one  of  some  importance,  the 
other  of  none. 

"All  right,"  said  Chide;  "so  long  as  the  Herald  and 
the  Flag  do  their  duty.  By-the-way,  hasn't  the  Herald 
got  a  new  editor?" 

"  Yes ;  a  man  called  Barrington — a  friend  of  Oliver's." 

"Ah! — a  good  deal  sounder  on  many  points  than 
Oliver!"  grumbled  Sir  James. 

Ferrier  did  not  reply. 

Chide  noticed  the  invariable  way  in  which  Marsham's 
name  dropped  between  them  whenever  it  was  introduced 
in  this  connection. 

As  they  neared  the  gate  of  the  town  they  parted,  Chide 
returning  to  the  hotel,  while  Ferrier,  the  most  indefati- 
gable of  sight-seers,  hurried  off  toward  San  Pietro. 

He  spent  a  quiet  hour  on  the  Peruginos,  deciding,  how- 
ever, with  himself  in  the  end  that  they  gave  him  but  a 
moderate  pleasure;  and  then  came  out  again  into  the 
glow  of  an  incomparable  evening.  Something  in  the 
light  and  splendor  of  the  scene,  as  he  lingered  on  the 
high  terrace,  hanging  over  the  plain,  looking  down  as 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

though  from  the  battlements,  the  flagrantia  moenia  of 
some  celestial  city,  challenged  the  whole  life  and  virility 
of  the  man. 

"  Yet  what  ails  me?"  he  thought  to  himself,  curiously, 
and  quite  without  anxiety.  "  It  is  as  though  I  were 
listening — for  the  approach  of  some  person  or  event — as 
though  a  door  were  open — or  about  to  open — 

What  more  natural? — in  this  pause  before  the  fight? 
And  yet  politics  seemed  to  have  little  to  do  with  it.  The 
expectancy  seemed  to  lie  deeper,  in  a  region  of  the  soul 
to  which  none  were  or  ever  had  been  admitted,  except 
some  friends  of  his  Oxford  youth — long  since  dead. 

And,  suddenly,  the  contest  which  lay  before  him  ap- 
peared to  him  under  a  new  aspect,  bathed  in  a  broad 
philosophic  air;  a  light  serene  and  transforming,  like 
the  light  of  the  Umbrian  evening.  Was  it  not  possibly 
true  that  he  had  no  future  place  as  the  leader  of  English 
Liberalism  ?  Forces  were  welling  up  in  its  midst,  forces 
of  violent  and  revolutionary  change,  with  which  it  might 
well  be  he  had  no  power  to  cope.  He  saw  himself,  in  a 
waking  dream,  as  one  of  the  last  defenders  of  a  lost  posi- 
tion. The  day  of  Utopias  was  dawning;  and  what  has 
the  critical  mind  to  do  with  Utopias  ?  Yet  if  men  desire 
to  attempt  them,  who  shall  stay  them? 

Barton,  McEwart,  Lankester — with  their  boundless 
faith  in  the  power  of  a  few  sessions  and  measures  to 
remake  this  old,  old  England — with  their  impatiences, 
their  readiness  at  any  moment  to  fling  some  wild  ar- 
row from  the  string,  amid  the  crowded  long-descended 
growths  of  English  life :  he  felt  a  strong  intellectual  con- 
tempt both  for  their  optimisms  and  audacities — mingled, 
perhaps;  with  a  certain  envy. 

Sadness  and  despondency  returned.  His  hand  sought 
372 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallorg 

in  his  pocket  for  the  little  volume  of  Leopardi  which  he 
had  taken  out  with  him.  On  that  king  of  pessimists, 
that  prince  of  all  despairs,  he  had  just  spent  half  an  hour 
among  the  olives.  Could  renunciation  of  life  and  con- 
tempt of  the  human  destiny  go  further  ? 

Well,  Leopardi'_s  case  was  not  his.  It  was  true,  what 
he  had  said  to  Chide.  With  all  drawbacks,  he  had  en- 
joyed his  life,  had  found  it  abundantly  worth  living. 

And,  after  all,  was  not  Leopardi  himself  a  witness  to 
the  life  he  rejected,  to  the  Nature  he  denounced.  Ferrier 
recalled  his  cry  to  his  brother:  "Love  me,  Carlo,  for 
God's  sake!  I  need  love,  love,  love! — fire,  enthusiasm, 
life." 

"Fire,  enthusiasm,  life."  Does  the  human  lot  contain 
these  things,  or  no  ?  If  it  does,  have  the  gods  mocked  us, 
after  all  ? 

Pondering  these  great  words,  Ferrier  strolled  home- 
ward, while  the  outpouring  of  the  evening  splendor  died 
from  Perusia  Augusta,  and  the  mountains  sank  deeper 
into  the  gold  and  purple  of  the  twilight. 

As  for  love,  he  had  missed  it  long  ago.  But  existence 
was  still  rich,  still  full  of  savor,  so  long  as  a  man's  will 
held  his  grip  on  men  and  circumstance. 

All  action,  he  thought,  is  the  climbing  of  a  precipice, 
upheld  above  infinity  by  one  slender  sustaining  rope. 
Call  it  what  we  like — will,  faith,  ambition,  the  wish  to 
live — in  the  end  it  fails  us  all.  And  in  that  moment, 
when  we  begin  to  imagine  how  and  when  it  may  fail  us, 
we  hear,  across  the  sea  of  time,  the  first  phantom  tolling 
of  the  funeral  bell. 

There  were  times  now  when  he  seemed  to  feel  the  cold 
approaching  breath  of  such  a  moment.  But  they  were 
still  invariably  succeeded  by  a  passionate  recoil  of  life  and 

373 


The  Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

energy.  By  the  time  he  reached  the  hotel  he  was  once 
more  plunged  in  all  the  preoccupations,  the  schemes,  the 
pugnacities  of  the  party  leader. 

A  month  later,  on  an  evening  toward  the  end  of  June, 
Dr.  Roughsedge,  lying  reading  in  the  shade  of  his  little 
garden,  saw  his  wife  approaching.  He  raised  himself 
with  alacrity. 

"You've  seen  her?" 

"Yes." 

With  this  monosyllabic  answer  Mrs.  Roughsedge  seat- 
ed herself,  and  slowly  untied  her  bonnet-strings. 

"My  dear,  you  seem  discomposed." 

"I  hate  men!"  said  Mrs.  Roughsedge,  vehemently. 

The  doctor  raised  his  eyebrows.  "  I  apologize  for  my 
existence.  But  you  might  go  so  far  as  to  explain." 

Mrs.  Roughsedge  was  silent. 

"How  is  that  child?"  said  the  doctor,  abruptly. 
"Come! — I  am  as  fond  of  her  as  you  are." 

Mrs.  Roughsedge  raised  her  handkerchief. 

"That  any  man  with  a  heart — "  she  began,  in  a  stifled 
voice. 

"  Why  you  should  speculate  on  anything  so  abnormal!" 
cried  the  doctor,  impatiently.  "  I  suppose  your  re- 
mark applies  to  Oliver  Marsham.  Is  she  breaking  her 
own  heart? — that's  all  that  signifies." 

"  She  is  extremely  well  and  cheerful." 

"Well,  then,  what's  the  matter?" 

Mrs.  Roughsedge  looked  out  of  the  window,  twisting 
her  handkerchief. 

"  Nothing  —  only  —  everything  seems  done  and  fin- 
ished." 

"At  twenty-two?"  The  doctor  laughed.  "And  it's 
374 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorvj 

not  quite  four  months  yet  since  the  poor  thing  dis- 
covered that  her  doll  was  stuffed  with  sawdust.  Really, 
Patricia!" 

Mrs.  Roughsedge  slowly  shook  her  head. 

"I  suspect  what  it  all  means,"  said  her  husband, 
"  is  that  she  did  not  show  as  much  interest  as  she  ought 
in  Hugh's  performance." 

"  She  was  most  kind,  and  asked  me  endless  questions. 
She  made  me  promise  to  bring  her  the  press-cuttings  and 
read  her  his  letters.  She  could  not  possibly  have  shown 
more  sympathy." 

"H'm!— well,  I  give  it  up." 

"Henry!" — his  wife  turned  upon  him — "I  am  con- 
vinced that  poor  child  will  never  marry!" 

"Give  her  time,  my  dear,  and  don't  talk  nonsense!" 

"  It  isn't  nonsense !  I  tell  you  I  felt  just  as  I  did  when 
I  went  to  see  Mary  Theed,  years  ago — you  remember 
that  pretty  cousin  of  mine  who  became  a  Carmelite  nun  ? 
— for  the  first  time  after  she  had  taken  the  veil.  She 
spoke  to  one  from  another  world — it  gave  one  the  shiv- 
ers!— and  was  just  as  smiling  and  cheerful  over  it  as 
Diana — and  it  was  just  as  ghastly  and  unbearable  and 
abominable — as  this  is." 

"Well,  then,"  said  the  doctor,  after  a  pause,  "I  sup- 
pose she'll  take  to  good  works.  I  hope  you  can  provide 
her  with  a  lot  of  hopeless  cases  in  the  village.  Did  she 
mention  Marsham  at  all?" 

"Not  exactly.     But  she  asked  about  the  election — 

"The  writs  are  out,"  interrupted  the  doctor.  "I  see 
the  first  borough  elections  are  fixed  for  three  weeks 
hence;  ours  will  be  one  of  the  last  of  the  counties;  six 
weeks  to-day." 

"  I  told  her  you  thought  he  would  get  in." 

375 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

"  Yes — by  the  skin  of  his  teeth.  All  his  real  populai  ity 
has  vanished  like  smoke.  But  there's  the  big  estate — 
and  his  mother's  money — and  the  collieries." 

"  The  Vicar  tells  me  the  colliers  are  discontented — all 
through  the  district — and  there  may  be  a  big  strike — 

"  Yes,  perhaps  in  the  autumn,  when  the  three  years' 
agreement  comes  to  an  end — not  yet.  Marsham's  vote 
will  run  down  heavily  in  the  mining  villages,  but  it  '11 
serve — this  time.  They  won't  put  the  other  man  in." 

Mrs.  Roughsedge  rose  to  take  off  her  things,  remark- 
ing, as  she  moved  away,  that  Marsham  was  said  to  be 
holding  meetings  nightly  already,  and  that  Lady  Lucy 
and  Miss  Drake  were  both  hard  at  work. 

"Miss  Drake?"  said  the  doctor,  looking  up.  "Hand- 
some girl!  I  saw  Marsham  in  a  dog-cart  with  her  yes- 
terday afternoon." 

Mrs.  Roughsedge  flushed  an  angry  red,  but  she  said 
nothing.  She  was  encumbered  with  parcels,  and  her 
husband  rose  to  open  the  door  for  her.  He  stooped  and 
looked  into  her  face. 

"You  didn't  say  anything  about  that,  Patricia,  I'll 
be  bound!" 

Meanwhile,  Diana  was  wandering  about  the  Beechcote 
garden,  with  her  hands  full  of  roses,  just  gathered.  The 
garden  glowed  under  the  westering  sun.  In  the  field  just 
below  it  the  silvery  lines  of  new-cut  hay  lay  hot  and 
fragrant  in  the  quivering  light.  The  woods  on  the  hill- 
side were  at  the  richest  moment  of  their  new  life,  the 
earth-forces  swelling  and  rioting  through  every  root  and 
branch,  wild  roses  climbing  every  hedge — the  miracle  of 
summer  at  its  height. 

Diana  sat  down  upon  a  grass-bank,  to  look  and  dream. 
376 


The   Testing    of   Diana   Mallorg 

The  flowers  dropped  beside  her;  she  propped  her  face 
on  her  hands. 

The  home-coming  had  been  hard.  And  perhaps  the 
element  in  it  she  had  felt  most  difficult  to  bear  had  been 
the  universal  sympathy  with  which  she  had  been  greeted. 
It  spoke  from  the  faces  of  the  poor — the  men  and  wom- 
en, the  lads  and  girls  of  the  village;  with  their  looks  of 
curiosity,  sometimes  frank,  sometimes  furtive  or  em- 
barrassed. It  was  more  politely  disguised  in  the  man- 
ners and  tones  of  the  gentle  people ;  but  everywhere 
it.  was  evident;  and  sometimes  it  was  beyond  her  en- 
durance. 

She  could  not  help  imagining  the  talk  about  her  in 
her  absence;  the  discussion  of  the  case  in  the  country- 
houses  or  in  the  village.  To  the  village  people,  unused 
to  the  fine  discussions  which  turn  on  motive  and  environ- 
ment, and  slow  to  revise  an  old  opinion,  she  was  just  the 
daughter — 

She  covered  her  eyes  —  one  hideous  word  ringing 
brutally,  involuntarily,  through  her  brain.  By  a  kind 
of  miserable  obsession  the  talk  in  the  village  public- 
houses  shaped  itself  in  her  mind.  "Ay,  they  didn't 
hang  her  because  she  was  a  lady.  She  got  off,  trust 
her!  But  if  it  had  been  you  or  me — 

She  rose,  trembling,  trying  to  shake  off  the  horror, 
walking  vaguely  through  the  garden  into  the  fields,  as 
though  to  escape  it.  But  the  horror  pursued  her,  only 
in  different  forms.  Among  the  educated  people — peo- 
ple who  liked  dissecting  "interesting"  or  "mysterious" 
crimes — there  had  been  no  doubt  long  discussions  of  Sir 
James  Chide's  letter  to  the  Times,  of  Sir  Francis  Wing's 
confession.  But  through  all  the  talk,  rustic  or  refined, 
she  heard  the  name  of  her  mother  bandied  ;  forever 
*s  377 


The   Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

soiled  and  dishonored;  with  no  right  to  privacy  or  cour- 
tesy any  more — "Juliet  Sparling"  to  all  the  world:  the 
loafer  at  the  street  corner — the  drunkard  in  the  tavern — 

The  thought  of  this  vast  publicity,  this  careless  or 
cruel  scorn  of  the  big  world — toward  one  so  frail,  so 
anguished,  so  helpless  in  death — clutched  Diana  many 
times  in  each  day  and  night.  And  it  led  to  that  per- 
petual image  in  the  mind  which  we  saw  haunting  her 
in  the  first  hours  of  her  grief,  as  though  she  carried  her 
dying  mother  in  her  arms,  passionately  clasping  and 
protecting  her,  their  faces  turned  to  each  other,  and 
hidden  from  all  eyes  besides. 

Also,  it  deadened  in  her  the  sense  of  her  own  case — 
in  relation  to  the  gossip  of  the  neighborhood.  Ostrich- 
like,  she  persuaded  herself  that  not  many  people  could 
have  known  anything  about  her  five  days'  engagement. 
Dear  kind  folk  like  the  Roughsedges  would  not  talk  of 
it,  nor  Lady  Lucy  surely.  And  Oliver  himself — never! 

She  had  reached  a  point  in  the  field  walk  where  the 
hill-side  opened  to  her  right,  and  the  little  winding  path 
was  disclosed  which  had  been  to  her  on  that  mild  Feb- 
ruary evening  the  path  of  Paradise.  She  stood  still  a 
moment,  looking  upward,  the  deep  sob  of  loss  rising 
in  her  throat. 

But  she  wrestled  with  herself,  and  presently  turned 
back  to  the  house,  calm  and  self-possessed.  There  were 
things  to  be  thankful  for.  She  knew  the  worst.  And 
she  felt  herself  singularly  set  free — from  ordinary  con- 
ventions and  judgments.  Nobody  could  ever  quarrel 
with  her  if,  now  that  she  had  come  back,  she  lived  her 
own  life  in  her  own  way.  Nobody  could  blame  her — 
surely  most  people  would  approve  her — if  she  stood 
aloof  from  ordinary  society,  and  ordinary  gayeties  for 

378 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

a  while,  at  any  rate.  Oh!  she  would  do  nothing  singu- 
lar or  rude.  But  she  was  often  tired  and  weak  —  not 
physically,  but  in  mind.  Mrs.  Roughsedge  knew — and 
Muriel. 

Dear  Hugh  Roughsedge! — he  was  indeed  a  faithful 
understanding  friend.  She  was  proud  of  his  letters;  she 
was  proud  of  his  conduct  in  the  short  campaign  just 
over;  she  looked  forward  to  his  return  in  the  autumn. 
But  he  must  not  cherish  foolish  thoughts  or  wishes. 
She  would  never  marry.  What  Lady  Lucy  said  was 
true.  She  had  probably  no  right  to  marry.  She  stood 
apart. 

But — but — she  must  not  be  asked  yet  to  give  herself 
to  any  great  mission — any  set  task  of  charity  or  philan- 
thropy. Her  poor  heart  fluttered  within  her  at  the 
thought,  and  she  clung  gratefully  to  the  recollection  of 
Marion's  imperious  words  to  her.  That  exaltation  with 
which,  in  February,  she  had  spoken  to  the  Vicar  of  going 
to  the  East  End  to  work  had  dropped — quite  dropped. 

Of  course,  there  was  a  child  in  the  village — a  dear 
child — ill  and  wasting — in  a  spinal  jacket,  for  whom  one 
would  do  anything — just  anything!  And  there  was 
Betty  Dyson — plucky,  cheerful  old  soul.  But  that  was 
another  matter. 

What,  she  asked,  had  she  to  give  the  poor?  She 
wanted  guiding  and  helping  and  putting  in  the  right 
way  herself.  She  could  not  preach  to  any  one — wrestle 
with  any  one.  And  ought  one  to  make  out  of  others' 
woes  plasters  for  one's  own?  To  use  the  poor  as  the 
means  of  a  spiritual  "cure"  seemed  a  dubious  indecent 
thing,  more  than  a  touch  in  it  of  arrogance — or  sacrilege. 

Meanwhile  she  had  been  fighting  her  fight  in  the  old 

379 


The   Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

ways.  She  had  been  falling  back  on  her  education, 
appealing  to  books  and  thought,  reminding  herself  of 
what  the  life  of  the  mind  had  been  to  her  father  in  his 
misery,  and  of  those  means  of  cultivating  it  to  which  he 
would  certainly  have  commended  her.  She  was  trying 
to  learn  a  new  foreign  language,  and,  under  Marion  Vin- 
cent's urging,  the  table  in  the  little  sitting-room  was 
piled  with  books  on  social  and  industrial  matters,  which 
she  diligently  read  and  pondered. 

It  was  all  struggle  and  effort.  But  it  had  brought  her 
some  reward.  And  especially  through  Marion  Vincent's 
letters,  and  through  the  long  day  with  Marion  in  London, 
which  she  had  now  to  look  back  upon.  For  Miss  Vincent 
and  Frobisher  had  returned,  and  Marion  was  once  more 
in  her  Stepney  rooms.  She  was  apparently  not  much 
worse;  would  allow  no  talk  about  herself;  and  though 
she  had  quietly  relinquished  all  her  old  activities,  her 
room  was  still  the  centre  it  had  long  been  for  the  London 
thinker  and  reformer. 

Diana  found  there  an  infinity  to  learn.  The  sages 
and  saints,  it  seemed,  are  of  all  sides  and  all  opinions. 
That  had  not  been  the  lesson  of  her  youth.  In  a  com- 
forting heat  of  prejudice  her  father  had  found  relief  from 
suffering,  and  his  creeds  had  been  fused  with  her  young 
blood.  Lately  she  had  seen  their  opposites  embodied  in 
a  woman  from  whom  she  shrank  in  repulsion — whose 
name  never  passed  her  lips — Oliver's  sister — who  had 
trampled  on  her  in  her  misery.  Yet  here,  in  Marion's 
dingy  lodging,  she  saw  the  very  same  ideas  which  Isabel 
Fotheringham  made  hateful,  clothed  in  light,  speaking 
from  the  rugged  or  noble  faces  of  men  and  women  who 
saw  in  them  the  salvation  of  their  kind. 

The  intellect  in  Diana,  the  critical  instinct  resisted. 
380 


The   Testing    of   Diana   Mallortj 

And,  moreover,  to  have  abandoned  any  fraction  of  the 
conservative  and  traditional  beliefs  in  which  she  had 
been  reared  was  impossible  for  her  of  all  women;  it 
would  have  seemed  to  her  that  she  was  thereby  leaving 
those  two  suffering  ones,  whom  only  her  love  sheltered, 
still  lonelier  in  death.  So,  beneath  the  clatter  of  talk 
and  opinion,  run  the  deep  omnipotent  tides  of  our  real 
being. 

But  if  the  mind  resisted,  the  heart  felt,  and  therewith, 
the  soul  —  that  total  personality  which  absorbs  and 
transmutes  the  contradictions  of  life — grew  kinder  and 
gentler  within  her. 

One  day,  after  a  discussion  on  votes  for  women  which 
had  taken  place  beside  Marion's  sofa,  Diana,  when 
the  talkers  were  gone,  had  thrown  herself  on  her 
friend. 

"  Dear,  you  can't  wish  it  ! — you  can't  believe  it!  To 
brutalize — unsex  us!" 

Marion  raised  herself  on  her  elbow,  and  looked  down 
the  narrow  cross  street  beneath  the  windows  of  her 
lodging.  It  was  a  stifling  evening.  The  street  was 
strewn  with  refuse,  the  odors  from  it  filled  the  room. 
Ragged  children  with  smeared  faces  were  sitting  or  play- 
ing listlessly  in  the  gutters.  The  public-house  at  the 
corner  was  full  of  animation,  and  women  were  passing  in 
and  out.  Through  the  roar  of  traffic  from  the  main 
street  beyond  a  nearer  sound  persisted :  a  note  of  wail- 
ing— the  wailing  of  babes. 

"There  are  the  unsexed!"  said  Marion,  panting.  "Is 
their  brutalization  the  price  we  pay  for  our  refinement?" 
Then,  as  she  sank  back:  "Try  anything — everything— 
to  change  that." 

Diana  pressed  the  speaker's  hand  to  her  lips. 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

But  from  Marion  Vincent,  the  girl's  thoughts,  as  she 
wandered  in  the  summer  garden,  had  passed  on  to  the 
news  which  Mrs.  Roughsedge  had  brought  her.  Oliver 
was  speaking  every  night,  almost,  in  the  villages  round 
Beechcote.  Last  week  he  had  spoken  at  Beechcote  it- 
self. Since  Mrs.  Roughsedge's  visit,  Diana  had  borrowed 
the  local  paper  from  Brown,  and  had  read  two  of  Oliver's 
speeches  therein  reported.  As  she  looked  up  to  the 
downs,  or  caught  through  the  nearer  trees  the  lines  of 
distant  woods,  it  was  as  though  the  whole  scene — earth 
and  air — were  once  more  haunted  for  her  by  Oliver — his 
presence  —  his  voice.  Beechcote  lay  on  the  high-road 
from  Tallyn  to  Dunscombe,  the  chief  town  of  the  divi- 
sion. Several  times  a  week,  at  least,  he  must  pass  the 
gate.  At  any  moment  they  might  meet  face  to  face. 

The  sooner  the  better !  Unless  she  abandoned  Beech- 
cote, they  must  learn  to  meet  on  the  footing  of  ordinary 
acquaintances;  and  it  were  best  done  quickly. 

Voices  on  the  lawn!  Diana,  peeping  through  the 
trees,  beheld  the  Vicar  in  conversation  with  Muriel  Col- 
wood.  She  turned  and  fled,  pausing  at  last  in  the 
deepest  covert  of  the  wood,  breathless  and  a  little 
ashamed. 

She  had  seen  him  once  since  her  return.  Everybody 
was  so  kind  to  her,  the  Vicar,  the  Miss  Bertrams — every- 
body; only  the  pity  and  the  kindness  burned  so.  She 
wrestled  with  these  feelings  in  the  wood,  but  she  none  the 
less  kept  a  thick  screen  between  herself  and  Mr.  Lavery. 

She  could  never  forget  that  night  of  her  misery  when 
— good  man  that  he  was! — he  had  brought  her  the 
message  of  his  faith. 

But  the  great  melting  moments  of  life  are  rare,  and 
the  tracts  between  are  full  of  small  frictions.  What  an 

382 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

incredible  sermon  he  had  preached  on  the  preceding 
Sunday!  That  any  minister  of  the  national  church — 
representing  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  men — should 
think  it  right  to  bring  his  party  politics  into  the  pulpit 
in  that  way !  Unseemly !  unpardonable ! 

Her  dark  eyes  flashed — and  then  clouded.  She  had 
walked  home  from  the  sermon  in  a  heat  of  wrath,  had 
straightway  sought  out  some  blue  ribbon,  and  made 
Tory  rosettes  for  herself  and  her  dog.  Muriel  had 
laughed — had  been  delighted  to  see  her  doing  it. 

But  the  rosettes  were  put  away  now — thrown  into  the 
bottom  of  a  drawer.  She  would  never  wear  them. 

The  Vicar,  it  seemed,  was  no  friend  of  Oliver's — would 
not  vote  for  him,  and  had  been  trying  to  induce  the 
miners  at  Hartingfield  to  run  a  Labor  man.  On  the 
other  hand,  she  understood  that  the  Ferrier  party  in 
the  division  were  dissatisfied  with  him  on  quite  other 
grounds:  that  they  reproached  him  with  a  leaning  to 
violent  and  extreme  views,  and  with  a  far  too  luke- 
warm support  of  the  leader  of  the  party  and  the  leader's 
policy.  The  local  papers  were  full  of  grumbling  letters 
to  that  effect. 

Her  brow  knit  over  Oliver's  difficulties.  The  day 
before,  Mr.  Lavery,  meeting  Muriel  in  the  village  street, 
had  suggested  that  Miss  Mallory  might  lend  him  the  barn 
for  a  Socialist  meeting — a  meeting,  in  fact,  for  the  ha- 
rassing and  heckling  of  Oliver. 

Had  he  come  now  to  urge  the  same  plea  again?  A 
woman's  politics  were  not,  of  course,  worth  remembering! 

She  moved  on  to  a  point  where,  still  hidden,  she  could 
see  the  lawn.  The  Vicar  was  in  full  career;  the  harsh 
creaking  voice  came  to  her  from  the  distance.  What 
an  awkward  unhandsome  figure,  with  his  long,  lank 

383 


The    Testing    of   Diana   Mallory 

countenance,  his  large  ears  and  spectacled  eyes!  Yet  an 
apostle,  she  admitted,  in  his  way — a  whole-hearted,  single- 
minded  gentleman.  But  the  barn  he  should  not  have. 

She  watched  him  depart,  and  then  slowly  emerged 
from  her  hiding-place.  Muriel,  putting  loving  hands  on 
her  shoulders,  looked  at  her  with  eyes  that  mocked  a 
little — tenderly. 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  said  Diana — "  I  know.  I  shirked. 
Did  he  want  the  barn  ?" 

"Oh  no.  I  convinced  him,  the  other  day,  you  were 
past  praying  for." 

"  Was  he  shocked  ?  '  It  is  a  serious  thing  for  women 
to  throw  themselves  across  the  path  of  progress,'  "  said 
Diana,  in  a  queer  voice. 

Muriel  looked  at  her,  puzzled.  Diana  reddened,  and 
kissed  her. 

"What  did  he  want,  then?" 

"  He  came  to  ask  whether  you  would  take  the  visiting 
of  Fetter  Lane — and  a  class  in  Sunday-school." 

Diana  gasped. 

"What  did  you  say?" 

"Never  mind.     He  went  away  quelled." 

"  No  doubt  he  thought  I  ought  to  be  glad  to  be  set  to 
work." 

"Oh!  they  are  all  masterful — that  sort." 

Diana  walked  on. 

"I  suppose  he  gossiped  about  the  election?" 

"  Yes.  He  has  all  sorts  of  stories — about  the  mines — 
and  the  Tallyn  estates,"  said  Muriel,  unwillingly. 

Diana's  look  flashed. 

"  Do  you  believe  he  has  any  power  of  collecting  evi- 
dence fairly?  I  don't.  He  sees  what  he  wants  to  see." 

Mrs.  Colwood  agreed;  but  did  not  feel  called  upon  to 
384 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallorg 

confirm  Diana's  view  by  illustrations.     She  kept  Mr. 
Lavery's  talk  to  herself. 

Presently,  as  the  evening  fell,  Diana  sitting  under  the 
limes  watching  the  shadows  lengthen  on  the  new-mown 
grass,  wondered  whether  she  had  any  mind — any  opin- 
ions of  her  own  at  all.  Her  father;  Oliver;  Mr.  Ferrier; 
Marion  Vincent  —  she  saw  and  felt  with  them  all  in 
turn.  In  the  eyes  of  a  Mrs.  Fotheringham  could  any- 
thing be  more  despicable? 

The  sun  was  sinking  when  she  stole  out  of  the  garden 
with  some  flowers  and  peaches  for  Betty  Dyson.  Her 
frequent  visits  to  Betty's  cottage  were  often  the  bright 
spots  in  her  day.  With  her,  almost  alone  among  the  poor 
people,  Diana  was  conscious  of  no  greedy  curiosity  be- 
hind the  spoken  words.  Yet  Betty  was  the  living  chron- 
icle of  the  village,  and  what  she  did  not  know  about  its 
inhabitants  was  not  worth  knowing. 

Diana  found  her  white  and  suffering  as  usual,  but  so 
bubbling  with  news  that  she  had  no  patience  either  with 
her  own  ailments  or  with  the  peaches.  Waving  both 
aside,  she  pounced  imperiously  upon  her  visitor,  her 
queer  yellowish  eyes  aglow  with  "eventful  living." 

"  Did  you  hear  of  old  Tom  Murthly  dropping  dead  in 
the  medder  last  Thursday?" 

Diana  had  just  heard  of  the  death  of  the  eccentric  old 
man  who  for  fifty  years — bachelor  and  miser — had  in- 
habited a  dilapidated  house  in  the  village. 

"  Well,  he  did.  Yo  may  take  it  at  that — yo  may."  (A 
mysterious  phrase,  equivalent,  no  doubt,  to  the  masculine 
oath.)  "  'Ee  'ad  a  lot  of  money — Tom  'ad.  Them  two 
'ouses  was  'is  what  stands  right  be'ind  Learoyds',  down 
the  village." 

"Who  will  they  go  to  now,  Betty?" 

385 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

Betty's  round,  shapeless  countenance,  furrowed  and 
scarred  by  time,  beamed  with  the  joy  of  communication. 

"Chancery!"  she  said,  nodding.  "Chancery  '11  'ave 
'em,  in  a  twelvemonth's  time  from  now,  if  Mrs.  Jack 
Murthly's  Tom — young  Tom — don't  claim  'em  from 
South  Africa — and  the  Lord  knows  where  ee  is!" 

Diana  tried  to  follow,  held  captive  by  a  tyrannical 
pair  of  eyes. 

"  And  what  relation  is  Mrs.  Jack  Murthly  to  the  man 
who  died?" 

"Brother's  wife!"  said  Betty,  sharply.  "I  thought 
you'd  ha'  known  that." 

"  But  if  nothing  is  heard  of  the  son,  Betty — of  young 
Tom — Mrs.  Murthly's  two  daughters  will  have  the  cot- 
tages, won't  they?" 

Betty's  scorn  made  her  rattle  her  stick  on  the  flagged 
floor. 

"They  ain't  daughters! — they're  only  'alves." 

"Halves?"  said  Diana,  bewildered. 

"Jack  Murthly  worn't  their  father!"  A  fresh  shower 
of  nods.  "Yo  may  take  it  at  that!" 

"Well,  then,  who— ?" 

Betty  bent  hastily  forward — Diana  had  placed  herself 
on  a  stool  before  her — and,  thrusting  out  her  wrinkled 
lips,  said,  in  a  hoarse  whisper: 

"Two  fathers!" 

There  was  a  silence. 

"  I  don't  understand,  Betty,"  said  Diana,  softly. 

"Jack  was  'is  father,  all  right — Tom's  in  South  Africa. 
But  he  worn't  their  father,  Mrs.  Jack  bein'  a  widder — 
or  said  so.  They're  only  'alves — and  'alves  ain't  no 
good  in  law;  so  inter  Chancery  those  'ouses  '11  go,  come 
a  twelvemonth — yo  may  take  it  at  that!" 

386 


The   Testing   of    Diana   Mallory 

Diana  laughed — a  young  spontaneous  laugh — the  first 
since  she  had  come  home.  She  kept  Betty  gossiping  for 
half  an  hour,  and  as  the  stream  of  the  village  life  poured 
about  her,  in  Betty's  racy  speech,  it  was  as  though  some 
primitive  virtue  entered  into  her  and  cheered  her — some 
bracing  voice  from  the  Earth-spirit — whose  purpose  is 
not  missed 

"If  birth  proceeds — if  things  subsist." 

She  rose  at  last,  held  Betty's  hand  tenderly,  and  went 
her  way,  conscious  of  a  return  of  natural  pleasure,  such 
as  Italy  had  never  brought  her,  her  heart  opening  afresh 
to  England  and  the  English  life. 

Perhaps  she  would  find  at  home  a  letter  from  Mr. 
Ferrier — her  dear,  famous  friend,  who  never  forgot  her, 
ignorant  as  she  was  of  the  great  affairs  in  which  he  was 
plunged.  But  she  meant  to  be  ignorant  no  longer.  No 
more  brooding  and  dreaming!  It  was  pleasant  to  re- 
member that  Sir  James  Chide  had  taken  a  furnished 
house — Lytchett  Manor — only  a  few  miles  from  Beech- 
cote,  and  that  Mr.  Ferrier  was  to  be  his  guest  there  as 
soon  as  politics  allowed.  For  her,  Diana,  that  was  well, 
for  if  he  were  at  Tallyn  they  could  have  met  but  seldom 
if  at  all. 

She  had  made  a  round  through  a  distant  and  seques- 
tered lane  in  order  to  prolong  her  walk.  Presently  she 
came  to  a  deep  cutting  in  the  chalk,  where  the  road, 
embowered  in  wild  roses  and  clematis,  turned  sharply  at 
the  foot  of  a  hill.  As  she  approached  the  turn  she  heard 
sounds — a  man's  voice.  Her  heart  suddenly  failed  her. 
She  looked  to  either  side — no  gate,  no  escape.  Nothing 
for  it  but  to  go  forward.  She  turned  the  corner. 

387 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

Before  her  was  a  low  pony  carriage  which  Alicia  Drake 
was  driving.  It  was  drawn  up  by  the  side  of  the  road, 
and  Alicia  sat  in  it,  laughing  and  talking,  while  Oliver 
Marsham  gathered  a  bunch  of  wild  roses  from  the  road- 
side. As  Diana  appeared,  and  before  either  of  them 
saw  her,  Marsham  returned  to  the  carriage,  his  hands 
full  of  flowers. 

"Will  that  content  you?  I  have  torn  myself  to  rib- 
bons for  you!" 

"Oh,  don't  expect  too  much  gratitude — Oliver!"  The 
last  word  was  low  and  hurried.  Alicia  gathered  up  the 
reins  hastily,  and  Marsham  looked  round  him — startled. 

He  saw  a  tall  and  slender  girl  coming  toward  them, 
accompanied  by  a  Scotch  collie.  She  bowed  to  him  and 
to  Alicia,  and  passed  quickly  on. 

"Never  mind  any  more  roses,"  said  Alicia.  "We 
ought  to  get  home." 

They  drove  toward  Tallyn  in  silence.  Alicia's  start- 
ling hat  of  white  muslin  framed  the  red  gold  of  her  hair, 
and  the  brilliant  color — assisted  here  and  there  by  rouge 
— of  her  cheeks  and  lips.  She  said  presently,  in  a  sympa- 
thetic voice: 

"  How  sorry  one  is  for  her!" 

Marsham  made  no  reply.  They  passed  into  the  dark- 
ness of  overarching  trees,  and  there,  veiled  from  him  in 
the  green  twilight,  Alicia  no  longer  checked  the  dancing 
triumph  in  her  eyes. 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

ONE  Saturday  in  early  August,  some  weeks  after 
the  incident  described  in  the  last  chapter,  Bobbie 
Forbes,  in  the  worst  inn's  worst  fly,  such  being  the  stress 
and  famine  of  election  time,  drove  up  to  the  Tallyn  front 
door.  It  was  the  day  after  the  polling,  and  Tallyn,  with 
its  open  windows  and  empty  rooms,  had  the  look  of  a 
hive  from  which  the  bees  have  swarmed.  According 
to  the  butler,  only  Lady  Niton  was  at  home,  and  the 
household  was  eagerly  awaiting  news  of  the  declaration 
of  the  poll  at  Dunscombe  Town  Hall.  Lady  Niton,  in- 
deed, was  knitting  ,in  the  drawing-room. 

"Capital! — to  find  you  alone,"  said  Bobbie,  taking  a 
seat  beside  her.  "All  the  others  at  Dunscombe,  I  hear. 
And  no  news  yet?" 

Lady  Niton,  who  had  given  him  one  inky  finger — 
(a  pile  of  letters  just  completed  lay  beside  her) — shook 
her  head,  looking  him  critically  up  and  down  the  while. 

The  critical  eye,  however,  was  more  required  in  her 
own  case.  She  was  untidily  dressed,  as  usual, in  a  shabby 
black  gown;  her  brown  "front"  was  a  little  displaced, 
and  her  cap  awry;  and  her  fingers  had  apparently  been 
badly  worsted  in  a  struggle  with  her  pen.  Yet  her 
diminutive  figure  in  the  drawing-room  —  such  is  the 
power  of  personality — made  a  social  place  of  it  at  once. 

"I  obeyed  your  summons,"  Bobbie  continued, 
"though  I'm  sure  Lady  Lucy  didn't  want  to  invite  me 

389 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

with  all  this  hubbub  going  on.  Well,  what  do  you 
prophesy  ?  They  told  me  at  the  station  that  the  result 
would  be  out  by  two  o'clock.  I  very  nearly  went  to  the 
Town  Hall,  but  the  fact  is  everybody's  so  nervous  I 
funked  it.  If  Oliver's  kicked  out,  the  fewer  tears  over 
spilled  milk  the  better." 

"He  won't  be  kicked  out." 

" Don't  make  too  sure!  I  have  been  hearing  the  most 
dismal  reports.  The  Ferrierites  hate  him  much  worse 
than  if  he'd  gone  against  them  openly.  And  the  fellows 
he  really  agrees  with  don't  love  him  much  better." 

"All  the  same  he  will  get  in;  and  if  he  don't  get 
office  now  he  will  in  a  few  years." 

"Oliver  must  be  flattered  that  you  believe  in  him  so." 

"I  don't  believe  in  him  at  all,"  said  Lady  Niton, 
sharply.  ' '  Every  country  has  the  politicians  it  deserves. ' ' 

Bobbie  grinned. 

"I  don't  find  you  a  democrat  yet.V 

"I'm  just  as  much  of  one  as  anybody  in  this  house, 
for  all  their  fine  talk.  Only  they  pretend  to  like  being 
governed  by  their  plumbers  and  gas-fitters,  and  I  don't." 

"I  hear  that  Oliver's  speeches  have  been  extremely 
good." 

"H'm — all  about  the  poor,"  said  Lady  Niton,  releasing 
her  hand  from  the  knitting-needles,  and  waving  it  scorn- 
fully at  the  room  in  which  they  sat.  "Well,  if  Oliver 
were  to  tell  me  from  now  till  doomsday  that  his  heart 
bled  for  the  poor,  I  shouldn't  believe  him.  It  doesn't 
bleed.  He  is  as  comfortable  in  his  middle  region  as  you 
or  I." 

Bobbie  laughed. 

"Now  look  here,  I'm  simply  famished  for  gossip,  and 
I  must  have  it."  Lady  Niton's  ball  of  wool  fell  on  the 

390 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallortj 

floor.  Bobbie  pounced  upon  it,  and  put  it  in  his  pocket. 
"A  hostage!  Surrender — and  talk  to  me!  Do  you  be- 
long to  the  Mallory  faction — or  don't  you?" 

"  Give  me  my  ball,  sir — and  don't  dare  to  mention  that 
girl's  name  in  this  house." 

Bobbie  opened  his  eyes. 

"I  say! — what  did  you  mean  by  writing  to  me  like 
that  if  you  weren't  on  the  right  side?" 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"You  can't  have  gone  over  to  Lady  Lucy  and  the 
Fotheringham  woman!" 

Lady  Niton  looked  at  him  with  a  queer  expression  of 
contempt  in  her  tanned  and  crumpled  face. 

"Is  that  the  only  reason  you  can  imagine  for  my  not 
permitting  you  to  talk  of  Diana  Mallory  in  this  house?" 

Bobbie  looked  puzzled.     Then  a  light  broke. 

"I  see!  You  mean  the  house  isn't  good  enough? 
Precisely!  What's  up.  Alicia?  No!" 

Lady  Niton  laughed. 

"  He  has  been  practically  engaged  to  her  for  two  years. 
He  didn't  know  it,  of  course — he  hadn't  an  idea  of  it. 
But  Alicia  knew  it.  Oh!  she  allowed  him  his  amuse- 
ments. The  Mallory  girl  was  one  of  them.  If  the 
Sparling  story  hadn't  broken  it  off,  something  else  would. 
I  don't  believe  Alicia  ever  alarmed  herself." 

"Are  they  engaged?" 

"  Not  formally.  I  dare  say  it  won't  be  announced  till 
the  autumn,"  said  his  companion,  indifferently.  Then 
seeing  that  Bobbie's  attention  was  diverted,  she  made  a 
dash  with  one  skinny  hand  at  his  coat-pocket,  abstracted 
the  ball  of  wool,  and  triumphantly  returned  to  her  knit- 
ting. 

"Mean!"  said  Bobbie.  "You  caught  me  off  guard. 

39 r 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

Well,  I  wish  them  joy.  Of  course,  I've  always  liked 
Marsham,  and  I'm  very  sorry  he's  got  himself  into  such 
a  mess.  But  as  for  Alicia,  there's  no  love  lost  between 
us.  I  hear  Miss  Mallory's  at  Beechcote." 

Lady  Niton  replied  that  she  had  only  been  three  days 
in  the  house,  that  she  had  asked — ostentatiously — for  a 
carriage  the  day  before  to  take  her  to  call  at  Beechcote, 
and  had  been  refused.  Everything,  it  seemed,  was 
wanted  for  election  purposes.  But  she  understood  that 
Miss  Mallory  was  quite  well  and  not  breaking  her  heart 
at  all.  At  the  present  moment  she  was  the  most  popu- 
lar person  in  Brookshire,  and  would  be  the  most  petted, 
if  she  would  allow  it.  But  she  and  Mrs.  Colwood  lived  a 
very  quiet  life,  and  were  never  to  be  seen  at  the  tea  and 
garden  parties  in  which  the  neighborhood  abounded. 

"Plucky  of  her  to  come  back  here!"  said  Bobbie. 
"And  how's  Lady  Lucy?" 

Lady  Niton  moved  impatiently. 

"Lucy  would  be  all  right  if  her  son  wouldn't  join  a 
set  of  traitors  in  jockeying  the  man  who  put  him  into 
Parliament,  and  has  been  Lucy's  quasi-husband  for 
twenty  years!" 

"Oh,  you  think  he  is  in  the  plot?" 

"Of  course,  Lucy  swears  he  isn't.  But  if  not — why 
isn't  Ferrier  here?  His  own  election  was  over  a  week 
ago.  In  the  natural  course  of  things  he  would  have 
been  staying  here  since  then,  and  speaking  for  Oliver. 
Not  a  word  of  it!  I'm  glad  he's  shown  a  little  spirit  at 
last!  He's  put  up  with  it  about  enough." 

"And  Lady  Lucy's  fretting?" 

"She  don't  like  it — particularly  when  he  comes  to  stay 
with  Sir  James  Chide  and  not  at  Tallyn.  Such  a  thing 
has  never  happened  before." 

392 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

"Poor  old  Ferrier!"  said  Bobbie,  with  a  shrug  of  the 
shoulders. 

Lady  Niton  drew  herself  up  fiercely. 

"Don't  pity  your  betters,  sir!     It's  disrespectful." 

Bobbie  smiled.  "You  know  the  Ministry's  re- 
signed?" 

"About  time!  What  have  they  been  hanging  on  for 
so  long?" 

"  Well,  it's  done  at  last.  I  found  a  wire  from  the  club 
waiting  for  me  here.  The  Queen  has  sent  for  Broadstone, 
and  the  fat's  all  in  the  fire." 

The  two  fell  into  an  excited  discussion  of  the  situation. 
The  two  rival  heroes  of  the  electoral  six  weeks  on  the 
Liberal  side  had  been,  of  course,  Ferrier  and  Lord  Philip. 
Lord  Philip  had  conducted  an  astonishing  campaign  in 
the  Midlands,  through  a  series  of  speeches  of  almost 
revolutionary  violence,  containing  many  veiled,  or 
scarcely  veiled,  attacks  on  Ferrier.  Ferrier,  on  the  whole 
held  the  North;  but  the  candidates  in  the  Midlands  had 
been  greatly  affected  by  Lord  Philip  and  Lord  Philip's 
speeches,  and  a  contagious  enthusiasm  had  spread 
through  whole  districts,  carrying  in  the  Liberal  candi- 
dates with  a  rush.  In  the  West  and  South,  too,  where 
the  Darcy  family  had  many  friends  and  large  estates,  the 
Liberal  nominees  had  shown  a  strong  tendency  to  adopt 
Lord  Philip's  programme  and  profess  enthusiastic  ad- 
miration for  its  author.  So  that  there  were  now  two 
kings  of  Brentford.  Lord  Philip's  fortunes  had  risen  to 
a  threatening  height,  and  the  whole  interest  of  the  Cabi- 
net-making just  beginning  lay  in  the  contest  which  it 
inevitably  implied  between  Ferrier  and  his  new  but 
formidable  lieutenant.  It  was  said  that  Lord  Philip  had 
retired  to  his  tent — alias,  his  Northamptonshire  house 
»6  393 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

— and  did  not  mean  to  budge  thence  till  he  had  got  all 
he  wanted  out  of  the  veteran  Premier. 

"As  for  the  papers,"  said  Bobbie,  "you  see  they're 
already  at  it  hammer  and  tongs.  However,  so  long  as  the 
Herald  sticks  to  Ferrier,  he  has  very  much  the  best  of  it. 
This  new  editor  Barrington  is  an  awfully  clever  fellow." 

"Barrington! — Barrington!"  said  Lady  Niton,  look- 
ing up,  "That's  the  man  who's  coming  to-night." 

"  Coming  here  ? — Barrington  ?  Hullo,  I  wonder  what's 
up?" 

"  He  proposed  himself,  Oliver  says;  he's  an  old  friend." 

"  They  were  at  Trinity  together.  But  he  doesn't  really 
care  much  about  Oliver.  I'm  certain  he's  not  coming 
here  for  Oliver's  beaux  yeux,  or  Lady  Lucy's." 

"  What  does  it  matter  ?"  cried  Lady  Niton,  disdainfully. 

"  H'm! — you  think  'em  all  a  poor  lot  ?" 

"  Well,  when  you've  known  Dizzy  and  Peel,  Palmer- 
ston  and  Melbourne,  you're  not  going  to  stay  awake 
nights  worriting  about  John  Ferrier.  In  any  other  house 
but  this  I  should  back  Lord  Philip.  But  I  like  to  make 
Oliver  uncomfortable." 

"Upon  my  word!  I  have  heard  you  say  that  Lord 
Philip's  speeches  were  abominable." 

"So  they  are.  But  he  ought  to  have  credit  for  the 
number  of  'em  he  can  turn  out  in  a  week." 

"He'll  be  heard,  in  fact,  for  his  much  speaking?" 

Bobbie  looked  at  his  companion  with  a  smile.  Sudden- 
ly his  cheek  flushed.  He  sat  down  beside  her  and  tried 
to  take  her  hand. 

"  Look  here, "  he  said,  with  vivacity,  "  I  think  you 
were  an  awful  brick  to  stick  up  for  Miss  Mallory  as  you 
did." 

Lady  Niton  withdrew  her  hand. 
394 


The    Testing   of    Diana    Mallorg 

"I  haven't  an  idea  what  you're  driving  at." 

"  You  really  thought  that  Oliver  should  have  given  up 
all  that  money?" 

His  companion  looked  at  him  rather  puzzled. 

"He  wouldn't  have  been  a  pauper,"  she  said,  dryly; 
"the  girl  had  some." 

"Oh,  but  not  much.  No ! — you  took  a  dear,  unworldly 
generous  view  of  it! — a  view  which  has  encouraged  me 
immensely!" 

"You!"  Lady  Niton  drew  back,  and  drew  up,  as 
though  scenting  battle,  while  her  wig  and  cap  slipped 
more  astray. 

"  Yes — me.  It's  made  me  think — well,  that  I  ought  to 
have  told  you  a  secret  of  mine  weeks  ago." 

And  with  a  resolute  and  combative  air,  Bobbie  sud- 
denly unburdened  himself  of  the  story  of  his  engagement 
— to  a  clergyman's  daughter,  without  a  farthing,  his 
distant  cousin  on  his  mother's  side,  and  quite  unknown 
to  Lady  Niton. 

His  listener  emitted  a  few  stifled  cries — asked  a  few 
furious  questions — and  then  sat  rigid. 

"Well?"  said  Bobbie,  masking  his  real  anxiety  under 
a  smiling  appearance. 

With  a  great  effort,  Lady  Niton  composed  herself. 
She  stretched  out  a  claw  and  resumed  her  work,  two 
red  spots  on  her  cheeks. 

"  Marry  her,  if  you  like,"  she  said,  with  delusive  calm. 
"  I  sha'n't  ever  speak  to  you  again.  A  scheming  minx 
without  a  penny ! — that  ought  never  to  have  been  allowed 
out  of  the  school-room." 

Bobbie  leaped  from  his  chair. 

"  Is  that  the  way  you  mean  to  take  it?" 

Lady  Niton  nodded. 

395 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallortj 

"That  is  the  way  I  mean  to  take  it!" 

"What  a  fool  I  was  to  believe  your  fine  speeches 
about  Oliver!" 

"Oliver  may  go  to  the  devil!"  cried  Lady  Niton. 

"  Very  well !"  Bobbie's  dignity  was  tremendous.  "  Then 
I  don't  mean  to  be  allowed  less  liberty  than  Oliver. 
It's  no  good  continuing  this  conversation.  Why,  I  de- 
clare! some  fool  has  been  meddling  with  those  books!" 

And  rapidly  crossing  the  floor,  swelling  with  wrath 
and  determination,  Bobbie  opened  the  bookcase  of  first 
editions  which  stood  in  this  inner  drawing-room  and 
began  to  replace  some  volumes,  which  had  strayed  from 
their  proper  shelves,  with  a  deliberate  hand. 

"You  resemble  Oliver  in  one  thing!"  Lady  Niton 
threw  after  him. 

"What  may  that  be?"  he  said,  carelessly. 

"You  both  find  gratitude  inconvenient!" 

Bobbie  turned  and  bowed.  "I  do!"  he  said,  "incon- 
venient, and  intolerable!  Hullo! — I  hear  the  carriage. 
I  beg  you  to  remark  that  what  I  told  you  was  confi- 
dential. It  is  not  to  be  repeated  in  company." 

Lady  Niton  had  only  time  to  give  him  a  fierce  look 
when  the  door  opened,  and  Lady  Lucy  came  wearily  in. 

Bobbie  hastened  to  meet  her. 

"  My  dear  Lady  Lucy! — what  news?" 

"Oliver  is  in!" 

"  Hurrah!"  Bobbie  shook  her  hand  vehemently.  "  I 
am  glad!" 

Lady  Niton,  controlling  herself  with  difficulty,  rose 
from  her  seat,  and  also  offered  a  hand. 

"There,  you  see,  Lucy,  you  needn't  have  been  so 
anxious." 

Lady  Lucy  sank  into  a  chair. 
396 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

"What's  the  majority?"  said  Bobbie,  astonished  by 
her  appearance  and  manner.  "  I  say,  you  know,  you've 
been  working  too  hard." 

"  The  majority  is  twenty-four,"  said  Lady  Lucy,  coldly, 
as  though  she  had  rather  not  have  been  asked  the  ques- 
tion; and  at  the  same  time,  leaning  heavily  back  in  her 
chair,  she  began  feebly  to  untie  the  lace  strings  of  her 
bonnet.  Bobbie  was  shocked  by  her  appearance.  She 
had  aged  rapidly  since  he  had  last  seen  her,  and,  in  par- 
ticular, a  gray  shadow  had  overspread  the  pink-and- white 
complexion  which  had  so  long  preserved  her  good  looks. 

On  hearing  the  figures  (the  majority  five  years  before 
had  been  fifteen  hundred),  Bobbie  could  not  forbear  an 
exclamation  which  produced  another  contraction  of  Lady 
Lucy's  tired  brow.  Lady  Niton  gave  a  very  audible 
"Whew!"— to  which  she  hastened  to  add:  "Well, 
Lucy,  what  does  it  matter?  Twenty-four  is  as  good  as 
two  thousand." 

Lady  Lucy  roused  herself  a  little. 

"Of  course,"  she  said,  languidly,  " it  is  disappointing. 
But  we  may  be  glad  it  is  no  worse.  For  a  little  while, 
during  the  counting,  we  thought  Oliver  was  out.  But 
the  last  bundles  to  be  counted  were  all  for  him,  and  we 
just  saved  it."  A  pause,  and  then  the  speaker  added, 
with  emphasis:  "It  has  been  a  horrid  election!  Such 
ill-feeling — and  violence — such  unfair  placards! — some 
of  them,  I  am  sure,  were  libellous.  But  I  am  told  one 
can  do  nothing." 

"  Well,  my  dear,  this  is  what  Democracy  comes  to," 
said  Lady  Niton,  taking  up  her  knitting  again  with 
vehemence.  "'Tu  I' as  voulu,  Georges  Dandin.'  You 
Liberals  have  opened  the  gates— and  now  you  grumble 
at  the  deluge." 

397 


The   Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

"  It  has  been  the  injustice  shown  him  by  his  own  side 
that  Oliver  minds."  The  speaker's  voice  betrayed  the 
bleeding  of  the  inward  wound.  "  Really,  to  hear  some 
of  our  neighbors  talk,  you  would  think  him  a  Communist. 
And,  on  the  other  hand,  he  and  Alicia  only  just  escaped 
being  badly  hurt  this  morning  at  the  collieries — when 
they  were  driving  round.  I  implored  them  not  to  go. 
However,  they  would.  There  was  an  ugly  crowd,  and 
but  for  a  few  mounted  police  that  came  up,  it  might  have 
been  most  unpleasant." 

"  I  suppose  Alicia  has  been  careering  about  with  him 
all  day?"  said  Lady  Niton. 

"  Alicia — and  Roland  Lankester — and  the  chairman  of 
Oliver's  committee.  Now  they've  gone  off  on  the  coach, 
to  drive  round  some  of  the  villages,  and  thank  people." 
Lady  Lucy  rose  as  she  spoke. 

"Not  much  to  thank  for,  according  to  you!"  observed 
Lady  Niton,  grimly. 

"Oh,  well,  he's  in!"  Lady  Lucy  drew  a  long  breath. 
"But  people  have  behaved  so  extraordinarily!  That 
man — that  clergyman — at  Beechcote — Mr.  Lavery.  He's 
been  working  night  and  day  against  Oliver.  Really,  I 
think  parsons  ought  to  leave  politics  alone." 

"Lavery?"  said  Bobbie.  "I  thought  he  was  a  Radi- 
cal. Weren't  Oliver's  speeches  advanced  enough  to 
please  him?" 

"  He  has  been  denouncing  Oliver  as  a  humbug,  be- 
cause of  what  he  is  pleased  to  call  the  state  of  the  mining 
villages.  I'm  sure  they're  a  great,  great  deal  better  than 
they  were  twenty  years  ago!"  Lady  Lucy's  voice  was 
almost  piteous.  "However,  he  very  nearly  persuaded 
the  miners  to  run  a  candidate  of  their  own,  and  when 
that  fell  through,  he  advised  them  to  abstain  from  vot- 

398 


The   Testing   of    Diana   Mallory 

ing.  And  they  must  have  done  so — in  several  villages. 
That's  pulled  down  the  majority." 

"Abominable!"  said  Bobbie,  who  was  comfortably 
conservative.  "I  always  said  that  man  was  a  fire- 
brand." 

"  I  don't  know  what  he  expects  to  get  by  it,"  said  Lady 
Lucy,  slowly,  as  she  moved  toward  the  door.  Her  tone 
was  curiously  helpless;  she  was  still  stately,  but  it  was  a 
ghostly  and  pallid  stateliness. 

"Get  by  it!"  sneered  Lady  Niton.  "After  all,  his 
friends  are  in.  They  say  he's  eloquent.  His  jackass- 
eries  will  get  him  a  bishopric  in  time — you'll  see." 

"It  was  the  unkindness — the  ill-feeling — I  minded," 
said  Lady  Lucy,  in  a  low  voice,  leaning  heavily  upon  her 
stick,  and  looking  straight  before  her  as  though  she 
inwardly  recalled  some  of  the  incidents  of  the  election. 
"  I  never  knew  anything  like  it  before." 

Lady  Niton  lifted  her  eyebrows — not  finding  a  suitable 
response.  Did  Lucy  really  not  understand  what  was  the 
matter  ? — that  her  beloved  Oliver  had  earned  the  reputa- 
tion throughout  the  division  of  a  man  who  can  propose  to 
a  charming  girl,  and  then  desert  her  for  money,  at  the 
moment  when  the  tragic  blow  of  her  life  had  fallen  upon 
her? — and  she,  that  of  the  mercenary  mother  who  had 
forced  him  into  it.  Precious  lucky  for  Oliver  to  have 
got  in  at  all! 

The  door  closed  on  Lady  Lucy.  Forgetting  for  an 
instant  what  had  happened  before  her  hostess  entered, 
Elizabeth  Niton,  bristling  with  remarks,  turned  im- 
petuously toward  Forbes.  He  had  gone  back  to  first 
editions,  and  was  whistling  vigorously  as  he  worked. 
With  a  start,  Lady  Niton  recollected  herself.  Her  face 
reddened  afresh ;  she  rose,  walked  with  as  much  majesty 

399 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

as  her  station  admitted  to  the  door,  which  she  closed 
sharply  behind  her. 

As  soon  as  she  was  gone  Bobbie  stopped  whistling. 
If  she  was  really  going  to  make  a  quarrel  of  it,  it  would 
certainly  be  a  great  bore — a  hideous  bore.  His  con- 
science pricked  him  for  the  mean  and  unmanly  depend- 
ence which  had  given  the  capricious  and  masterful 
little  woman  so  much  to  say  in  his  affairs.  He  must 
really  find  fresh  work,  pay  his  debts,  those  to  Lady 
Niton  first  and  foremost,  and  marry  the  girl  who  would 
make  a  decent  fellow  of  him.  But  his  heart  smote  him 
about  his  queer  old  Fairy  Blackstick.  No  surrender! — 
but  he  would  like  to  make  peace. 

It  was  past  eight  o'clock  when  the  four-in-hand  on 
which  the  new  member  had  been  touring  the  constitu- 
ency drove  up  to  the  Tallyn  door.  Forbes  hurried  to 
the  steps  to  greet  the  party. 

"Hullo,  Oliver!  A  thousand  congratulations,  old 
fellow!  Never  mind  the  figures.  A  win's  a  win!  But 
I  thought  you  would  have  been  dining  and  junketing  in 
Dunscombe  to-night.  How  on  earth  did  you  get  them 
to  let  you  off?" 

Oliver's  tired  countenance  smiled  perfunctorily  as  he 
swung  himself  down  from  the  coach.  He  allowed  his 
hand  to  be  shaken;  his  lips  moved,  but  only  a  husky 
whisper  emerged. 

"  Lost  his  voice,"  Roland  Lankester  explained.  "  And 
so  done  that  we  begged  him  off  from  the  Dunscombe 
dinner.  He's  only  fit  for  bed." 

And  with  a  wave  of  the  hand  to  the  company,  Mar- 
sham,  weary  and  worn,  mounted  the  steps,  and,  passing 
rapidly  through  the  hall,  went  up-stairs.  Alicia  Drake 

400 


The    Testing    of!   Diana    Mallortj 

and  Lankester  followed,  pausing  in  the  hall  to  talk  with 
Bobbie. 

Alicia  too  looked  tired  out.  She  was  dressed  in  a 
marvellous  gown  of  white  chiffon,  adorned  with  a  large 
rosette  of  Marsham's  colors — red-and-yellow — and  wore 
a  hat  entirely  composed  of  red  and  yellow  roses.  The 
colors  were  not  becoming  to  her,  and  she  had  no  air  of 
happy  triumph.  Rather,  both  in  her  and  in  Marsham 
there  were  strong  signs  of  suppressed  chagrin  and  in- 
dignation. 

f'Well,  that's  over!"  said  Miss  Drake,  throwing  down 
her  gloves  on  the  billiard-table  with  a  fierce  gesture; 
"  and  I'm  sure  neither  Oliver  nor  I  would  go  through  it 
again  for  a  million  of  money.  How  revolting  the  lower 
classes  are!" 

Lankester  looked  at  her  curiously. 

"You've  worked  awfully  hard,"  he  said.  "I  hope 
you're  going  to  have  a  good  rest." 

"  I  wouldn't  bother  about  rest  if  I  could  pay  out  some 
of  the  people  here,"  said  Alicia,  passionately.  "  I  should 
like  to  see  a  few  score  of  them  hanged  in  chains,  pour 
encourager  les  autres." 

So  saying,  she  gathered  up  her  gloves  and  parasol, 
and  swept  up-stairs  declaring  that  she  was  too  dog-tired 
to  talk. 

Bobbie  Forbes  and  Lankester  looked  at  each  other. 

"It's  been  really  a  beastly  business!"  said  Lankester, 
under  his  breath.  "Precious  little  politics  in  it,  too,  as 
far  as  I  could  see.  The  strong  Ferrierites  no  doubt  have 
held  aloof  on  the  score  of  Marsham's  supposed  disloyalty 
to  the  great  man;  though,  as  far  as  I  can  make  out,  he 
has  been  careful  not  to  go  beyond  a  certain  line  in  his 
speeches.  Anyway,  they  have  done  no  work,  and  a  good 

401 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

many  of  them  have  certainly  abstained  from  voting.  It 
is  our  vote  that  has  gone  down ;  the  Tories  have  scarcely 
increased  theirs  at  all.  But  the  other  side — and  the 
Socialists — got  hold  of  a  lot  of  nasty  little  things  about 
the  estate  and  the  collieries.  The  collieries  are  prac- 
tically in  rebellion,  spoiling  for  a  big  strike  next  Novem- 
ber, if  not  before.  When  Miss  Drake  and  Marsham  drove 
round  there  this  morning  they  were  very  badly  received. 
Her  parasol  was  broken  by  a  stone,  and  there  was  a  good 
deal  of  mud-throwing." 

Bobbie  eyed  his  companion. 

"Was  any  of  the  Opposition  personal  to  her?" 

Lankester  nodded. 

"There's  an  extraordinary  feeling  all  over  the  place 
for—" 

"Of  course  there  is!"  said  Bobbie,  hotly.  "Marsham 
isn't  such  a  fool  as  not  to  know  that.  Why  did  he  let 
this  aggressive  young  woman  take  such  a  prominent 
part?" 

Lankester  shrugged  his  shoulders,  but  did  not  pursue 
the  subject.  The  two  men  went  up-stairs,  and  Lankes- 
ter parted  from  his  companion  with  the  remark: 

"  I  must  say  I  hope  Marsham  won't  press  for  anything 
in  the  Government.  I  don't  believe  he'll  ever  get  in  for 
this  place  again." 

Forbes  shook  his  head. 

"  Marsham 's  got  a  lot  of  devil  in  him  somewhere.  I 
shouldn't  wonder  if  this  made  him  set  his  teeth." 

Lankester  opened  the  door  of  the  ugly  yet  luxurious 
room  which  had  been  assigned  him.  He  looked  round  it 
with  fresh  distaste,  resenting  its  unnecessary  size  and 
its  pretentious  decoration,  resenting  also  the  very  care- 

402 


The    Testing    of   Diana    Mallorg 

ful  valeting  which  had  evidently  been  bestowed  on  his 
shabby  clothes  and  personal  appointments,  as  though 
the  magnificent  young  footman  who  looked  after  him 
had  been  doing  his  painful  best  with  impossible  ma- 
terials. 

"Why,  the  idiots  have  shut  the  windows!" 

He  strode  vehemently  across  the  floor,  only  to  find 
the  park  outside,  as  he  hung  across  the  sill,  even  less  to 
his  liking  than  the  room  within. 

Then,  throwing  himself  into  a  chair,  tired  out  with  the 
canvassing,  speaking,  and  multifarious  business  of  the 
preceding  days,  he  fell  to  wondering  what  on  earth  had 
made  him — after  the  fatigues  of  his  own  election — come 
down  to  help  Marsham  with  his.  There  were  scores  of 
men  in  the  House  he  liked  a  great  deal  better,  and  re- 
quests for  help  had  been  showered  upon  him. 

He  had,  no  doubt,  been  anxious,  as  a  keen  member  of 
the  advanced  group,  that  Marsham  should  finally  commit 
himself  to  the  programme  of  the  Left  Wing,  with  which  he 
had  been  so  long  coquetting.  Oliver  had  a  considerable 
position  in  the  House,  and  was,  moreover,  a  rich  man. 
Rich  men  had  not,  so  far,  been  common  in  the  advanced 
section  of  the  party.  Lankester,  in  whom  the  idealist 
and  the  wire-puller  were  shrewdly  mixed,  was  well  aware 
that  the  reforms  he  desired  could  only  be  got  by  exten- 
sive organization;  and  he  knew  precisely  what  the 
money  cost  of  getting  them  would  be.  Rich  men,  there- 
fore, were  the  indispensable  tools  of  his  ideas ;  and  among 
his  own  group  he  who  had  never  possessed  a  farthing  of 
his  own  apart  from  the  earnings  of  his  brain  and  pen  was 
generally  set  on  to  capture  them. 

Was  that  really  why  he  had  come  down? — to  make 
sure  of  this  rich  Laodicean  ?  Lankester  fell  into  a  reverie. 

403 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

He  was  a  man  of  curious  gifts  and  double  personality. 
It  was  generally  impossible  to  lure  him,  on  any  pretext, 
from  the  East  End  and  the  House  of  Commons.  He 
lived  in  a  block  of  model  dwellings  in  a  street  opening 
out  of  the  East  India  Dock  Road,  and  his  rooms,  when- 
ever he  was  at  home,  were  overrun  by  children  from  the 
neighboring  tenements.  To  them  he  was  all  gentleness 
and  fun,  while  his  command  of  invective  in  a  public 
meeting  was  little  short  of  terrible.  Great  ladies  and  the 
country-houses  courted  him  because  of  a  certain  wit,  a 
certain  charm — above  all,  a  certain  spiritual  power — which 
piqued  the  worldling.  He  flouted  and  refused  the  great 
ladies — with  a  smile,  however,  which  gave  no  offence; 
and  he  knew,  notwithstanding,  everybody  whom  he 
wanted  to  know.  Occasionally  he  made  quiet  spaces  in 
his  life,  and  disappeared  from  London  for  days  or  weeks. 
When  he  reappeared  it  was  often  with  a  battered  and 
exhausted  air,  as  of  one  from  whom  virtue  had  gone  out. 
He  was,  in  truth,  a  mystic  of  a  secular  kind:  very  difficult 
to  class  religiously,  though  he  called  himself  a  member 
of  the  Society  of  Friends.  Lady  Lucy,  who  was  of  Quaker 
extraction,  recognized  in  his  ways  and  phrases  echoes 
from  the  meetings  and  influences  of  her  youth.  But,  in 
reality,  he  was  self-taught  and  self -formed,  on  the  lines  of 
an  Evangelical  tradition,  which  had  owed  something,  a 
couple  of  generations  back,  among  his  Danish  forebears, 
to  the  influence  of  Emanuel  Swedenborg.  This  tradition 
had  not  only  been  conveyed  to  him  by  a  beloved  and 
saintly  mother;  it  had  been  appropriated  by  the  man's 
inmost  forces.  What  he  believed  in,  with  all  mystics, 
was  prayer — an  intimate  and  ineffable  communion  be- 
tween the  heart  and  God.  Lying  half  asleep  on  the 
House  of  Commons  benches,  or  strolling  on  the  Terrace, 

404 


The    Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

he  pursued  often  an  inner  existence,  from  which  he  could 
spring  in  a  moment  to  full  mundane  life — arguing  pas- 
sionately for  some  Socialist  proposal,  scathing  an  op- 
ponent, or  laughing  and  "ragging"  with  a  group  of 
friends,  like  a  school-boy  on  an  exeat.  But  whatever  he 
did,  an  atmosphere  went  with  him  that  made  him  be- 
loved. He  was  extremely  poor,  and  wrote  for  his  living. 
His  opinions  won  the  scorn  of  moderate  men ;  and  every 
year  his  influence  in  Parliament — on  both  sides  of  the 
House  and  with  the  Labor  party — increased.  On  his 
rare  appearance  in  such  houses  as  Tallyn  Hall  every 
servant  in  the  house  marked  and  befriended  him.  The 
tall  footman,  for  instance,  who  had  just  been  endeavor- 
ing to  make  the  threadbare  cuffs  of  Lankester's  dress 
coat  present  a  more  decent  appearance,  had  done  it  in 
no  spirit  of  patronage,  but  simply  in  order  that  a  gentle- 
man who  spoke  to  him  as  a  man  and  a  brother  should 
not  go  at  a  disadvantage  among  "toffs"  who  did  nothing 
of  the  kind. 

But  again — why  had  he  come  down? 

During  the  last  months  of  Parliament,  Lankester  had 
seen  a  good  deal  of  Oliver.  The  story  of  Diana,  and  of 
Marsham's  interrupted  wooing  was  by  that  time  public 
property,  probably  owing  to  the  indignation  of  certain 
persons  in  Brookshire.  As  we  have  seen,  it  had  injured 
the  prestige  of  the  man  concerned  in  and  out  of  Parlia- 
ment. But  Lankester,  who  looked  at  life  intimately 
and  intensely,  with  the  eye  of  a  confessor,  had  been 
roused  by  it  to  a  curiosity  about  Oliver  Marsham — whom 
at  the  time  he  was  meeting  habitually  on  political  affairs 
—which  he  had  never  felt  before.  He,  with  his  brood- 
ing second  sight  based  on  a  spiritual  estimate  of  the 
world— he  and  Lady  Lucy— alone  saw  that  Marsham  was 

405 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

unhappy.  His  irritable  moodiness  might ,  of  course ,  have 
nothing  to  do  with  his  failure  to  play  the  man  in  the  case 
of  Miss  Mallory.  Lankester  was  inclined  to  think  it  had 
— Alicia  Drake  or  no  Alicia  Drake.  And  the  grace  of 
repentance  is  so  rare  in  mankind  that  the  mystic — his 
own  secret  life  wavering  perpetually  between  repentance 
and  ecstasy — is  drawn  to  the  merest  shadow  of  it. 

These  hidden  thoughts  on  Lankester's  side  had  been 
met  by  a  new  and  tacit  friendliness  on  Marsham's.  He 
had  shown  an  increasing  liking  for  Lankester's  company, 
and  had  finally  asked  him  to  come  down  and  help  him  in 
his  constituency. 

By  George,  if  he  married  that  girl,  he  would  pay  his 
penalty  to  the  utmost! 

Lankester  leaned  out  of  window  again,  his  eyes  sweep- 
ing the  dreary  park.  In  reality  they  had  before  them 
Marsham's  aspect  at  the  declaration  of  the  poll — head 
and  face  thrown  back  defiantly,  hollow  eyes  of  bitterness 
and  fatigue;  and  the  scene  outside — in  front,  a  booing 
crowd — and  beside  the  new  member,  Alicia's  angry  and 
insolent  look. 

The  election  represented  a  set-back  in  a  man's  career, 
in  spite  of  the  bare  victory.  And  Lankester  did  not  think 
it  would  be  retrieved.  With  a  prophetic  insight  which 
seldom  failed  him,  he  saw  that  Marsham's  chapter  of 
success  was  closed.  He  might  get  some  small  office  out 
of  the  Government.  Nevertheless,  the  scale  of  life  had 
dropped — on  the  wrong  side.  Through  Lankester's 
thought  there  shot  a  pang  of  sympathy.  Defeat  was 
always  more  winning  to  him  than  triumph. 

Meanwhile  the  new  member  himself  was  in  no  melting 
mood. 

406 


The   Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

Forbes  was  right.  Marsham,  in  his  room,  looking 
over  the  letters  which  his  servant  had  brought  him,  was 
only  conscious  of  two  feelings — disgust  and  loathing 
with  regard  to  the  contest  just  over,  and  a  dogged  de- 
termination with  regard  to  the  future.  He  had  been 
deserted  by  the  moderates — by  the  Ferrierites — in  spite 
of  all  his  endeavors  to  keep  within  courteous  and  judicial 
bounds;  and  he  had  been  all  but  sacrificed  to  a  forbear- 
ance which  had  not  saved  him  apparently  a  single 
moderate  vote,  and  had  lost  him  scores  on  the  advanced 
side. 

With  regard  to  Ferrier  personally,  he  was  extremely 
sore.  A  letter  from  him  during  the  preceding  week 
would  certainly  have  influenced  votes.  Marsham  denied 
hotly  that  his  speeches  had  been  of  a  character  to 
offend  or  injure  his  old  friend  and  leader.  A  man  must 
really  be  allowed  some  honest  latitude  of  opinion,  even 
under  party  government! — and  in  circumstances  of  per- 
sonal obligation.  He  had  had  to  steer  a  most  difficult 
course.  But  why  must  he  give  up  his  principles — not  to 
speak  of  his  chances  of  political  advancement — because 
John  Ferrier  had  originally  procured  him  his  seat  in 
Parliament,  and  had  been  his  parents'  intimate  friend 
for  many  years?  Let  the  Whig  deserters  answer  that 
question,  if  they  could! 

His  whole  being  was  tingling  with  anger  and  resent- 
ment. The  contest  had  steeped  him  in  humiliations 
which  stuck  to  him  like  mud-stains. 

The  week  before,  he  had  written  to  Ferrier,  implor- 
ing him  if  possible  to  come  and  speak  for  him — or  at 
least  to  write  a  letter;  humbling  his  pride;  and  giving 
elaborate  explanations  of  the  line  which  he  had  taken. 

There,  on  the  table  beside  him,  was  Ferrier's  reply: 

407 


The  Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

"Mr  DEAR  OLIVER, — I  don't  think  a  letter  would  do  you  much 
good,  and  for  a  speech,  I  am  too  tired — and  I  am  afraid  at  the 
present  moment  too  thin-skinned.  Pray  excuse  me.  We  shall 
meet  when  this  hubbub  is  over.  All  success  to  you. 

"Yours  ever,  J.  F." 

Was  there  ever  a  more  ungracious,  a  more  uncalled-for, 
letter?  Well,  at  any  rate,  he  was  free  henceforward  to 
think  and  act  for  himself,  and  on  public  grounds  only; 
though  of  course  he  would  do  nothing  unworthy  of  an 
old  friendship,  or  calculated  to  hurt  his  mother's  feelings. 
Ferrier,  by  this  letter,  and  by  the  strong  negative  in- 
fluence he  must  have  exerted  in  West  Brookshire  during 
the  election,  had  himself  loosened  the  old  bond;  and  Mar- 
sham  would  henceforth  stand  on  his  own  feet. 

As  to  Ferrier's  reasons  for  a  course  of  action  so  wholly 
unlike  any  he  had  ever  yet  taken  in  the  case  of  Lucy 
Marsham's  son,  Oliver's  thoughts  found  themselves  en- 
gaged in  a  sore  and  perpetual  wrangle.  Ferrier,  he 
supposed,  suspected  him  of  a  lack  of  "  straightness " ; 
and  did  not  care  to  maintain  an  intimate  relation,  which 
had  been  already,  and  might  be  again,  used  against  him. 
Marsham,  on  his  side,  recalled  with  discomfort  various 
small  incidents  in  the  House  of  Commons  which  might 
have  seemed — to  an  enemy — to  illustrate  or  confirm  such 
an  explanation  of  the  state  of  things. 

Absurd,  of  course!  He  was  an  old  friend  of  Ferrier's, 
whose  relation  to  his  mother  necessarily  involved  close 
and  frequent  contact  with  her  son.  And  at  the  same  time 
—although  in  the  past  Ferrier  had  no  doubt  laid  him 
under  great  personal  and  political  obligations — he  had 
by  now,  in  the  natural  course  of  things,  developed  strong 
opinions  of  his  own,  especially  as  to  the  conduct  of  party 
affairs  in  the  House  of  Commons;  opinions  which  were 

408 


The   Testing    of  Diana    Malloftj 

not  Ferrier's— which  were,  indeed,  vehemently  opposed  to 
Ferrier's.  In  his,  Oliver's,  opinion,  Ferrier's  lead  in  the 
House — on  certain  questions — was  a  lead  of  weakness, 
making  for  disaster.  Was  he  not  even  to  hold,  much  less 
to  express  such  a  view,  because  of  the  quasi-parental 
relation  in  which  Ferrier  had  once  stood  to  him?  The 
whole  thing  was  an  odious  confusion — most  unfair  to  him 
individually — between  personal  and  Parliamentary  duty. 
Frankness? — loyalty?  It  would,  no  doubt,  be  said 
that  Ferrier  had  always  behaved  with  singular  generosity 
both  toward  opponents  and  toward  dissidents  in  his 
own  party.  Open  and  serious  argument  was  at  no  time 
unwelcome  to  him. 

All  very  well!  But  how  was  one  to  argue,  beyond 
a  certain  point,  with  a  man  twenty-five  years  your  senior, 
who  had  known  you  in  jackets,  and  was  also  your  political 
chief  ? 

Moreover,  he  had  argued — to  the  best  of  his  ability. 
Ferrier  had  written  him  a  striking  series  of  letters,  no 
doubt,  and  he  had  replied  to  them.  As  to  Ferrier's 
wish  that  he  should  communicate  certain  points  in  those 
letters  to  Barton  and  Lankester,  he  had  done  it,  to  some 
extent.  But  it  was  a  most  useless  proceeding.  The 
arguments  employed  had  been  considered  and  rejected 
a  hundred  times  already  by  every  member  of  the  dissident 
group. 

And  with  regard  to  the  meeting,  which  had  apparently 
roused  so  sharp  a  resentment  in  Ferrier,  Marsham  main- 
tained simply  that  he  was  not  responsible.  It  was  a 
meeting  of  the  advanced  Radicals  of  the  division.  Neither 
Marsham  nor  his  agents  had  been  present.  Certain 
remarks  and  opinions  of  his  own  had  been  quoted  in- 
deed, even  in  public,  as  leading  up  to  it,  and  justifying  it. 
97  409 


The  Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

A  great  mistake.  He  had  never  meant  to  countenance 
any  personal  attack  on  Ferrier  or  his  leadership.  Yet 
he  uncomfortably  admitted  that  the  meeting  had  told 
badly  on  the  election.  In  the  view  of  one  side,  he  had 
not  had  pluck  enough  to  go  to  it;  in  the  view  of  the  other, 
he  had  disgracefully  connived  at  it. 

The  arrival  of  the  evening  post  and  papers  did  some- 
thing to  brush  away  these  dismal  self-communings. 
Wonderful  news  from  the  counties!  The  success  of  the 
latest  batch  of  advanced  candidates  had  been  astonish- 
ing. Other  men,  it  seemed,  had  been  free  to  liberate 
their  souls!  Well,  now  the  arbiter  of  the  situation  was 
Lord  Philip,  and  there  would  certainly  be  a  strong  ad- 
vanced infusion  in  the  new  Ministry.  Marsham  con- 
sidered that  he  had  as  good  claims  as  any  of  the  younger 
men;  and  if  it  came  to  another  election  in  Brookshire, 
hateful  as  the  prospect  was,  he  should  be  fighting  in  the 
open,  and  choosing  his  own  weapons.  No  shirking! 
His  whole  being  gathered  itself  into  a  passionate  de- 
termination to  retaliate  upon  the  persons  who  had  in- 
jured, thwarted,  and  calumniated  him  during  the  con- 
test just  over.  He  would  fight  again — next  week,  if 
necessary — and  he  would  win! 

As  to  the  particular  and  personal  calumnies  with 
which  he  had  been  assailed — why,  of  course,  he  absolved 
Diana.  She  could  have  had  no  hand  in  them. 

Suddenly  he  pushed  his  papers  from  him  with  a  hasty 
unconscious  movement. 

In  driving  home  that  evening  past  the  gates  and 
plantations  of  Beechcote  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  had 
seen  through  the  trees — in  the  distance — the  fluttering 
of  a  white  dress.  Had  the  news  of  his  inglorious  success 

410 


The    Testing    of  Diana  Mallory 

just  reached  her  ?  How  had  she  received  it  ?  Her  face 
came  before  him — the  frank  eyes— the  sweet  troubled 
look. 

He  dropped  his  head  upon  his  arms.  A  sick  distaste 
for  all  that  he  had  been  doing  and  thinking  rose  upon 
him,  wavelike,  drowning  for  a  moment  the  energies  of 
mind  and  will.  Had  anything  been  worth  while — for 
him — since  the  day  when  he  had  failed  to  keep  the  last 
tryst  which  Diana  had  offered  him? 

He  did  not,  however,  long  allow  himself  a  weakness 
which  he  knew  well  he  had  no  right  to  indulge.  He 
roused  himself  abruptly,  took  pen  and  paper,  and  wrote 
a  little  note  to  Alicia,  sending  it  round  to  her  through 
her  maid. 

V  /Marsham  pleaded  fatigue,  and  dined  in  his  room.  In 
the  course  of  the  meal  he  inquired  of  his  servant  if  Mr. 
Barrington  had  arrived. 

"Yes,  sir;  he  arrived  in  time  for  dinner." 
"Ask  him  to  come  up  afterward  and  see  me  here." 
As  he  awaited  the  new-comer,  Marsham  had  time  to 
ponder  what  this  visit  of  a  self-invited  guest  might  mean. 
The  support  of  the  Herald  and  its  brilliant  editor  had 
been  so  far  one  of  Ferrier's  chief  assets.  But  there  had 
been  some  signs  of  wavering  in  its  columns  lately,  espe- 
cially on  two  important  questions  likely  to  occupy  the 
new  Ministry  in  its  first  session — matters  on  which  the 
opinion  of  the  Darcy,  or  advanced  section,  was  under- 
stood to  be  in  violent  conflict  with  that  of  Ferrier  and 
the  senior  members  of  the  late  Front  Opposition  Bench 
in  general. 

Barrington,  no  doubt,  wished  to  pump  him — one  of 
Ferrier's  intimates — with  regard  to  the  latest  phase  of 

4U 


The    Testing    of   Diana    Mallorij 

Ferrier's  views  on  these  two  principal  measures.  The 
leader  himself  was  rather  stiff  and  old-fashioned  with 
regard  to  journalists — gave  too  little  information  where 
other  men  gave  too  much. 

Oliver  glanced  in  some  disquiet  at  the  pile  of  Ferrier's 
letters  lying  beside  him.  It  contained  material  for  which 
any  ambitious  journalist,  at  the  present  juncture,  would 
give  the  eyes  out  of  his  head.  But  could  Harrington 
be  trusted  ?  Oliver  vaguely  remembered  some  stories  to 
his  disadvantage,  told  probably  by  Lankester,  who  in 
these  respects  was  one  of  the  most  scrupulous  of  men. 
Yet  the  paper  stood  high,  and  was  certainly  written  with 
conspicuous  ability. 

Why  not  give  him  information  ? — cautiously,  of  course, 
and  with  discretion.  What  harm  could  it  do — to  Ferrier 
or  any  one  else?  The  party  was  torn  by  dissensions; 
and  the  first  and  most  necessary  step  toward  reunion 
was  that  Ferrier's  aims  and  methods  should  be  thorough- 
ly understood.  No  doubt  in  these  letters,  as  he  had 
himself  pointed  out,  he  had  expressed  himself  with  com- 
plete, even  dangerous  freedom.  But  there  was  not  go- 
ing to  be  any  question  of  putting  them  into  Barrington's 
hands.  Certainly  not ! — merely  a  quotation — a  reference 
here  and  there. 

As  he  began  to  sketch  his  own  share  in  the  expected 
conversation,  a  pleasant  feeling  of  self-importance  crept 
in,  soothing  to  the  wounds  of  the  preceding  week.  Se- 
cretly Marsham  knew  that  he  had  never  yet  made  the 
mark  in  politics  that  he  had  hoped  to  make,  that  his 
abilities  entitled  him  to  make.  The  more  he  thought 
of  it  the  more  he  realized  that  the  coming  half-hour 
might  be  of  great  significance  in  English  politics ;  he  had 
it  in  his  own  power  to  make  it  so.  He  was  conscious  of 

412 


The   Testing   of   Diana    Mallorg 

a  strong  wish  to  impress  Harrington— perhaps  Ferrier 
also.  After  all,  a  man  grows  up,  and  does  not  remain 
an  Eton  boy,  or  an  undergraduate,  forever.  It  would 
be  well  to  make  Ferrier  more  aware  than  he  was  of  that 
fact. 

In  the  midst  of  his  thoughts  the  door  opened,  and 
Barrington — a  man  showing  in  his  dark-skinned,  large- 
featured  alertness  the  signs  of  Jewish  pliancy  and  in- 
telligence— walked  in. 

"Are  you  up  to  conversation?"  he  said,  laughing. 
"You  look  pretty  done!" 

"If  I  can  whisper  you  what  you  want,"  said  Oliver, 
huskily,  "it's  at  your  service !  There  are  the  cigarettes." 

The  talk  lasted  long.  Midnight  was  near  before  the 
two  men  separated. 

The  news  of  Marsham's  election  reached  Ferrier 
under  Sir  James  Chide 's  roof,  in  the  pleasant  fur- 
nished house  about  four  miles  from  Beechcote,  of  which 
he  had  lately  become  the  tenant  in  order  to  be  near 
Diana.  It  was  conveyed  in  a  letter  from  Lady  Lucy,  of 
which  the  conclusion  ran  as  follows: 


"It  is  so  strange  not  to  have  you  here  this  evening — not  to  be 
able  to  talk  over  with  you  all  these  anxieties  and  trials.  I  can't 
help  being  a  little  angry  with  Sir  James.  We  are  the  oldest 
friends. 

"  Of  course  I  have  often  been  anxious  lately  lest  Oliver  should 
have  done  anything  to  offend  you.  I  have  spoken  to  him  about 
that  tiresome  meeting,  and  I  think  I  could  prove  to  you  it  was 
not  his  fault.  Do,  my  dear  friend,  come  here  as  soon  as  you  can, 
and  let  me  explain  to  you  whatever  may  have  seemed  wrong. 
You  cannot  think  how  much  we  miss  you.  I  feel  it  a  little  hard 
that  there  should  be  strangers  here  this  evening  —  like  Mr. 
Lankester  and  Mr.  Barrington.  But  it  could  not  be  helped.  Mr 
Lankester  was  speaking  for  Oliver  last  night — and  Mr.  Barring- 

413 


The   Testing   of    Diana   Mallorg 

ton  invited  himself.  I  really  don't  know  why.  Oliver  is  dread- 
fully tired  —  and  so  am  I.  The  ingratitude  and  ill-feeling  of 
many  of  our  neighbors  has  tried  me  sorely.  It  will  be  a  long 
time  before  I  forget  it.  It  really  seems  as  though  nothing  were 
worth  striving  for  in  this  very  difficult  world." 

"Poor  Lucy!"  said  Ferrier  to  himself,  his  heart  soft- 
ening, as  usual.     "Harrington?     H'm.     That's  odd." 
He  had  only  time  for  a  short  reply: 

"  MY  DEAR  LADY  LUCY, — It's  horrid  that  you  are  tired  and 
depressed.  I  wish  I  could  come  and  cheer  you  up.  Politics 
are  a  cursed  trade.  But  never  mind,  Oliver  is  safely  in,  and  as 
soon  as  the  Government  is  formed,  I  will  come  to  Tallyn,  and  we 
will  laugh  at  these  woes.  I  can't  write  at  greater  length  now, 
for  Broadstone  has  just  summoned  me.  You  will  have  seen 
that  he  went  to  Windsor  this  morning.  Now  the  agony  begins. 
Let's  hope  it  may  be  decently  short.  I  am  just  off  for  town. 
"Yours  ever,  JOHN  FERRIER." 

Two  days  passed — three  days — and  still  the  "agony" 
lasted.  Lord  Broadstone's  house  in  Portman  Square  was 
besieged  all  day  by  anxious  journalists  watching  the 
goings  and  comings  of  a  Cabinet  in  the  making.  But 
nothing  could  be  communicated  to  the  newspapers — 
nothing,  in  fact,  was  settled.  Envoys  went  backward 
and  forward  to  Lord  Philip  in  Northamptonshire.  Ur- 
gent telegrams  invited  him  to  London.  He  took  no 
notice  of  the  telegrams;  he  did  not  invite  the  envoys, 
and  when  they  came  he  had  little  or  nothing  of  interest 
to  say  to  them.  Lord  Broadstone,  he  declared,  was 
fully  in  possession  of  his  views.  He  had  nothing  more 
to  add.  And,  indeed,  a  short  note  from  him  laid  by  in 
the  new  Premier's  pocket-book  was,  if  the  truth  were 
known,  the  fans  et  origo  of  all  Lord  Broadstone's  diffi- 
culties. 

414 


The   Testing    of    Diana    Mallortj 

Meanwhile  the  more  conservative  section  exerted  it- 
self, and  by  the  evening  of  the  third  day  it  seemed  to 
have  triumphed.  A  rumor  spread  abroad  that  Lord 
Philip  had  gone  too  far.  Ferrier  emerged  from  a  long 
colloquy  with  the  Prime  Minister,  walking  briskly  across 
the  square  with  his  secretary,  smiling  at  some  of  the  re- 
porters in  waiting.  Twenty  minutes  later,  as  he  stood 
in  the  smoking-room  of  the  Reform,  surrounded  by  a 
few  privileged  friends,  Lankester  passed  through  the 
room. 

^'By  Jove,"  he  said  to  a  friend  with  him,  "I  believe 
Ferrier's  done  the  trick!" 

In  spite,  however,  of  a  contented  mind,  Ferrier  was 
aware,  on  reaching  his  own  house,  that  he  was  far  from 
well.  There  was  nothing  very  much  to  account  for  his 
feeling  of  illness.  A  slight  pain  across  the  chest,  a 
slight  feeling  of  faintness,  when  he  came  to  count  up 
his  symptoms ;  nothing  else  appeared.  It  was  a  glorious 
summer  evening.  He  determined  to  go  back  to  Chide, 
who  now  always  returned  to  Lytchett  by  an  evening 
train,  after  a  working-day  in  town.  Accordingly,  the 
new  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer  and  Leader  of  the 
House  dined  lightly,  and  went  off  to  St.  Pancras,  leav- 
ing a  note  for  the  Prime  Minister  to  say  where  he  was  to 
be  found,  and  promising  to  come  to  town  again  the  fol- 
lowing afternoon. 

The  following  morning  fulfilled  the  promise  of  the 
tranquil  evening  and  starry  night,  which,  amid  the  deep 
quiet  of  the  country,  had  done  much  to  refresh  a  man, 
in  whom,  indeed,  a  stimulating  consciousness  of  success 
seemed  already  to  have  repaired  the  ravages  of  the  fight. 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

Ferrier  was  always  an  early  riser,  and  by  nine  o'clock 
he  and  Sir  James  were  pottering  and  smoking  in  the 
garden.  A  long  case  in  which  Chide  had  been  engaged 
had  come  to  an  end  the  preceding  day.  The  great  law- 
yer sent  word  to  his  chambers  that  he  was  not  coming 
up  to  town;  Ferrier  ascertained  that  he  was  only  half 
an  hour  from  a  telegraph  office,  made  a  special  arrange- 
ment with  the  local  post  as  to  a  mid-day  delivery  of 
letters,  and  then  gave  himself  up  for  the  morning  to  rest, 
gossip,  and  a  walk. 

By  a  tiresome  contretemps  the  newspapers  did  not 
arrive  at  breakfast-time.  Sir  James  was  but  a  new-comer 
in  the  district,  and  the  parcel  of  papers  due  to  him  had 
gone  astray  through  the  stupidity  of  a  newsboy.  A  ser- 
vant was  sent  into  Dunscombe,  five  miles  off;  and  mean- 
while Ferrier  bore  the  blunder  with  equanimity.  His 
letters  of  the  morning,  fresh  from  the  heart  of  things, 
made  newspapers  a  mere  superfluity.  They  could  tell 
him  nothing  that  he  did  not  know  already.  And  as  for 
opinions,  those  might  wait. 

He  proposed,  indeed,  before  the  return  of  the  servant 
from  Dunscombe,  to  walk  over  to  Beechcote.  The  road 
lay  through  woods,  two  miles  of  shade.  He  pined  for 
exercise;  Diana  and  her  young  sympathy  acted  as  a 
magnet  both  on  him  and  on  Sir  James ;  and  it  was  to  be 
presumed  she  took  a  daily  paper,  being,  as  Ferrier  re- 
called, "a  terrible  little  Tory." 

In  less  than  an  hour  they  were  at  Beechcote.  They 
found  Diana  and  Mrs.  Colwood  on  the  lawn  of  the  old 
house,  reading  and  working  in  the  shade  of  a  yew  hedge 
planted  by  that  Topham  Beauclerk  who  was  a  friend  of 
Johnson.  The  scent  of  roses  and  limes;  the  hum  of 
bees;  the  beauty  of  slow-sailing  clouds,  and  of  the  shad- 

416 


The   Testing    off  Diana   Mallory 

ows  they  flung  on  the  mellowed  color  of  the  house;  com- 
bined with  the  figure  of  Diana  in  white,  her  eager  eyes, 
her  smile,  and  her  unquenchable  interest  in  all  that  con- 
cerned the  two  friends,  of  whose  devotion  to  her  she  was 
so  gratefully  and  simply  proud — these  things  put  the 
last  touch  to  Ferrier's  enjoyment.  He  flung  himself  on 
the  grass,  talking  to  both  the  ladies  of  the  incidents  and 
absurdities  of  Cabinet-making,  with  a  freedom  and  fun, 
an  abandonment  of  anxiety  and  care  that  made  him 
young  again.  Nobody  mentioned  a  newspaper. 

Presently  Chide,  who  had  now  taken  the  part  of  gen- 
eral adviser  to  Diana,  which  had  once  been  filled  by  Mar- 
sham,  strolled  off  with  her  to  look  at  a  greenhouse  in 
need  of  repairs.  Mrs.  Col  wood  was  called  in  by  some 
household  matter.  Ferrier  was  left  alone. 

As  usual,  he  had  a  book  in  his  pocket.  This  time  it 
was  a  volume  of  selected  essays,  ranging  from  Bacon  to 
Carlyle.  He  began  lazily  to  turn  the  pages,  smiling  to 
himself  the  while  at  the  paradoxes  of  life.  Here,  for  an 
hour,  he  sat  under  the  limes,  dxunk  with  summer  breezes 
and  scents,  toying  with  a  book,  as  though  he  were  some 
"indolent  irresponsible  reviewer" — some  college  fellow 
in  vacation — some  wooer  of  an  idle  muse.  Yet  dusk  that 
evening  would  find  him  once  more  in  the  Babel  of  Lon- 
don. And  before  him  lay  the  most  strenuous,  and,  as 
he  hoped,  the  most  fruitful  passage  of  his  political  life. 
Broadstone,  too,  was  an  old  man;  the  Premiership  itself 
could  not  be  far  away. 

As  for  Lord  Philip — Ferrier's  thoughts  ran  upon  that 
gentleman  with  a  good-humor  which  was  not  without 
malice.  He  had  played  his  cards  extremely  well,  but 
the  trumps  in  his  hand  had  not  been  quite  strong  enough. 
Well,  he  was  young;  plenty  of  time  yet  for  Cabinet  office. 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

That  he  would  be  a  thorn  in  the  side  of  the  new  Ministry 
went  without  saying.  Ferrier  felt  no  particular  dismay 
at  the  prospect,  and  amused  himself  with  speculations 
on  the  letters  which  had  probably  passed  that  very  day 
between  Broadstone  and  the  "iratus  Achilles"  in  North- 
amptonshire. 

And  from  Lord  Philip,  Ferrier's  thoughts — shrewdly 
indulgent  —  strayed  to  the  other  conspirators,  and  to 
Oliver  Marsham  in  particular,  their  spokesman  and  in- 
termediary. Suddenly  a  great  softness  invaded  him 
toward  Oliver  and  his  mother.  After  all,  had  he  not 
been  hard  with  the  boy,  to  leave  him  to  his  fight  without 
a  word  of  help  ?  Oliver's  ways  were  irritating ;  he  had 
more  than  one  of  the  intriguer's  gifts;  and  several  times 
during  the  preceding  weeks  Ferrier's  mind  had  recurred 
with  disquiet  to  the  letters  in  his  hands.  But,  after  all, 
things  had  worked  out  better  than  could  possibly  have 
been  expected.  The  Herald,  in  particular,  had  done 
splendid  service,  to  himself  personally,  and  to  the  mod- 
erates in  general.  Now  was  the  time  for  amnesty  and 
reconciliation  all  round.  Ferrier's  mind  ran  busily  on 
schemes  of  the  kind.  As  to  Oliver,  he  had  already 
spoken  to  Broadstone  about  him,  and  would  speak 
again  that  night.  Certainly  he  must  have  something — 
a  Junior  Lordship  at  least.  And  if  he  were  opposed  on 
re-election,  why,  he  should  be  helped — roundly  helped. 
Ferrier  already  saw  himself  at  Tally n  once  more,  with 
Lady  Lucy's  frail  hand  in  one  of  his,  the  other  perhaps 
on  Oliver's  shoulder.  After  all,  where  was  he  happy — 
or  nearly  happy — but  with  them? 

His  eyes  returned  to  his  book.  With  a  mild  amuse- 
ment he  saw  that  it  had  opened  of  itself  at  an  essay, 

418 


The   Testing   of    Diana   Mallorg 

by  Abraham  Cowley,  on  "Greatness"  and  its  penal- 
ties: "Out  cf  these  inconveniences  arises  naturally  one 
more,  which  is,  that  no  greatness  can  be  satisfied  or 
contented  with  itself;  still,  if  it  could  mount  up  a  little 
higher,  it  would  be  happy;  if  it  could  not  gain  that  point, 
it  would  obtain  all  its  desires;  but  yet  at  last,  when  it  is 
got  up  to  the  very  top  of  the  peak  of  Teneriffe,  it  is  in 
very  great  danger  of  breaking  its  neck  downward,  but  in 
no  possibility  of  ascending  upward  —  into  the  seat  of 
tranquillity  about  the  moon." 

The  new  Secretary  of  State  threw  himself  back  in  his 
garden  chair,  his  hands  behind  his  head.  Cowley  wrote 
well;  but  the  old  fellow  did  not,  after  all,  know  much 
about  it,  in  spite  of  his  boasted  experiences  at  that  sham 
and  musty  court  of  St. -Germain's.  Is  it  true  that  men 
who  have  climbed  high  are  always  thirsty  to  climb  high- 
er? No!  "What  is  my  feeling  now?  Simply  a  sense 
of  opportunity.  A  man  may  be  glad  to  have  the  chance 
of  leaving  his  mark  on  England." 

Thoughts  rose  in  him  which  were  not  those  of  a 
pessimist — thoughts,  however,  which  the  wise  man  will 
express  as  little  as  possible,  since  talk  profanes  them. 
The  concluding  words  of  Peel's  great  Corn  Law  speech 
ran  through  his  memory,  and  thrilled  it.  He  was  ac- 
cused of  indifference  to  the  lot  of  the  poor.  It  was  not 
true.  It  never  had  been  true. 

"Hullo!  who  comes?" 

Mrs.  Colwood  was  running  over  the  lawn,  bringing 
apparently  a  letter,  and  a  newspaper. 

She  came  up,  a  little  breathless. 

"  This  letter  has  just  come  for  you,  Mr.  Ferrier,  by 
special  messenger.  And  Miss  Mallory  asked  me  to  bring 
you  the  newspaper." 

4*9 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorij 

Ferrier  took  the  letter,  which  was  bulky  and  addressed 
in  the  Premier's  handwriting. 

"  Kindly  ask  the  messenger  to  wait.  I  will  come  and 
speak  to  him." 

He  opened  the  letter  and  read  it.  Then,  having  put 
it  deliberately  in  his  pocket,  he  sat  bending  forward, 
staring  at  the  grass.  The  newspaper  caught  his  eye. 
It  was  the  Herald  of  that  morning.  He  raised  it  from 
the  ground,  read  the  first  leading  article,  and  then  a 
column  "from  a  correspondent"  on  which  the  article 
was  based. 

As  he  came  to  the  end  of  it  a  strange  premonition 
took  possession  of  him.  He  was  still  himself,  but  it 
seemed  to  him  that  the  roar  of  some  approaching  cataract 
was  in  his  ears.  He  mastered  himself  with  difficulty, 
took  a  pencil  from  his  pocket,  and  drew,  a  wavering  line 
beside  a  passage  in  the  article  contributed  by  the  Herald's 
correspondent.  The  newspaper  slid  from  his  knee  to  the 
ground. 

Then,  with  a  groping  hand,  he  sought  again  for  Broad- 
stone's  letter,  drew  it  out  of  its  envelope,  and,  with  a  mist 
before  his  eyes,  felt  for  the  last  page  which,  he  seemed  to 
remember,  was  blank.  On  this  he  traced,  with  difficulty, 
a  few  lines,  replaced  the  whole  letter  in  the  torn  envelope 
and  wrote  an  address  upon  it  —  uncertainly  crossing 
out  his  own  name. 

Then,  suddenly,  he  fell  back.  The  letter  followed  the 
newspaper  to  the  ground.  Deadly  weakness  was  creep- 
ing upon  him,  but  as  yet  the  brain  was  clear.  Only  his 
will  struggled  no  more;  everything  had  given  way,  but 
with  the  sense  of  utter  catastrophe  there  mingled  neither 
pain  nor  bitterness.  Some  of  the  Latin  verse  scattered 
over  the  essay  he  had  been  reading  ran  vaguely  through 

420 


The   Testing   of   Diana   Mallory 

his  mind — then  phrases  from  his  last  talk  with  the  Prime 
Minister — then  remembrances  of  the  night  at  Assisi — 
and  the  face  of  the  poet — 

A  piercing  cry  rang  out  close  beside  him — Diana's 
cry.  His  life  made  a  last  rally,  and  his  eyes  opened. 
They  closed  again,  and  he  heard  no  more. 

Sir  James  Chide  stooped  over  Diana. 

"Run  for  help! — brandy! — a  doctor!  I'll  stay  with 
him.  Run!" 

Diana  ran.  She  met  Mrs.  Colwood  hurrying,  and  sent 
her  for  brandy.  She  herself  sped  on  blindly  toward  the 
village. 

A  few  yards  beyond  the  Beechcote  gate  she  was  over- 
taken by  a  carriage.  There  was  an  exclamation,  the 
carriage  pulled  up  sharp,  and  a  man  leaped  from  it. 

"Miss  Mallory! — what  is  the  matter?" 

She  looked  up,  saw  Oliver  Marsham,  and,  in  the 
carriage  behind  him,  Lady  Lucy,  sitting  stiff  and  pale', 
with  astonished  eyes. 

"  Mr.  Ferrier  is  ill — very  ill!  Please  go  for  the  doctor! 
He  is  here — at  my  house." 

The  figure  in  the  carriage  rose  hurriedly.  Lady  Lucy 
was  beside  her. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  She  laid  an  imperious  hand 
on  the  girl's  arm. 

"I  think — he  is  dying,"  said  Diana,  gasping.  "Oh, 
come! — come  back  at  once!" 

Marsham  was  already  in  the  carriage.  The  horse 
galloped  forward.  Diana  and  Lady  Lucy  ran  toward 
the  house. 

"  In  the  garden,"  said  Diana,  breathlessly;  and,  taking 
Lady  Lucy's  hand,  she  guided  her. 

Beside  the  dying  man  stood  Sir  James  Chide,  Muriel 

421 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

Colwood,  and  the  old  butler.  Sir  James  looked  up,  start- 
ed at  the  sight  of  Lady  Lucy,  and  went  to  meet  her. 

"You  are  just  in  time,"  he  said,  tenderly;  "but  he  is 
going  fast.  We  have  done  all  we  could." 

Ferrier  was  now  lying  on  the  grass,  his  head  supported. 
Lady  Lucy  sank  beside  him. 

"John!"  she  called,  in  a  voice  of  anguish — "John — 
dear,  dear  friend!" 

But  the  dying  man  made  no  sign.  And  as  she  lifted 
his  hand  to  her  lips — the  love  she  had  shown  him  so 
grudgingly  in  life  speaking  now  undisguised  through  her 
tears  and  her  despair — Sir  James  watched  the  gentle 
passage  of  the  last  breaths,  and  knew  that  all  was  done — 
the  play  over  and  the  lights  out. 


CHAPTER   XIX 

A  SAD  hurrying  and  murmuring  filled  the  old  rooms 
and  passages  of  Beechcote.  The  village  doctor 
had  arrived,  and  under  his  direction  the  body  of  John 
Ferrier  had  been  removed  from  the  garden  to  the  library 
of  the  house.  There,  amid  Diana's  books  and  pictures, 
Ferrier  lay,  shut-eyed  and  serene,  that  touch  of  the  ugly 
and  the  ponderous  which  in  life  had  mingled  with  the 
power  and  humanity  of  his  aspect  entirely  lost  and 
drowned  in  the  dignity  of  death. 

Chide  and  the  doctor  were  in  low-voiced  consultation 
at  one  end  of  the  room ;  Lady  Lucy  sat  beside  the  body, 
her  face  buried  in  her  hands;  Marsham  stood  behind 
her. 

Brown,  the  butler,  noiselessly  entered  the  room,  and 
approached  Chide. 

"  Please  sir,  Lord  Broadstone's  messenger  is  here.  He 
thinks  you  might  wish  him  to  take  back  a  letter  to  his 
lordship." 

Chide  turned  abruptly. 

"Lord  Broadstone's  messenger?" 

"  He  brought  a  letter  for  Mr.  Ferrier,  sir,  half  an  hour 
ago." 

Chide's  face  changed. 

"  Where  is  the  letter  ?"  He  turned  to  the  doctor,  who 
shook  his  head. 

"I  saw  nothing  when  we  brought  him  in." 

423 


The  Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

Marsham,  who  had  overheard  the  conversation,  came 
forward. 

"Perhaps  on  the  grass- 
Chide — pale,  with  drawn  brows — looked  at  him  a  mo- 
ment in  silence. 

Marsham  hurried  to  the  garden  and  to  the  spot  under 
the  yews,  where  the  death  had  taken  place.  Round  the 
garden  chairs  were  signs  of  trampling  feet — the  feet  of 
the  gardeners  who  had  carried  the  body.  A  medley  of 
books,  opened  letters,  and  working-materials  lay  on  the 
grass.  Marsham  looked  through  them ;  they  all  belonged 
to  Diana  or  Mrs.  Col  wood.  Then  he  noticed  a  cushion 
which  had  fallen  beside  the  chair,  and  a  corner  of  news- 
paper peeping  from  below  it.  He  lifted  it  up. 

Below  lay  Broadstone's  open  letter,  in  its  envelope, 
addressed  first  in  the  Premier's  well-known  handwriting 
to  "The  Right  Honble.  John  Ferrier,  M.P." — and,  sec- 
ondly, in  wavering  pencil,  to  "Lady  Lucy  Marsham, 
Tallyn  Hall." 

Marsham  turned  the  letter  over,  while  thoughts  hur- 
ried through  his  brain.  Evidently  Ferrier  had  had  time 
to  read  it.  Why  that  address  to  his  mother? — and  in 
that  painful  hand — written,  it  seemed,  with  the  weak- 
ness of  death  already  upon  him  ? 

The  newspaper?  Ah! — the  Herald! — lying  as  though, 
after  reading  it,  Ferrier  had  thrown  it  down  and  let  the 
letter  drop  upon  it,  from  a  hand  that  had  ceased  to  obey 
him.  As  Marsham  saw  it  the  color  rushed  into  his 
cheeks.  He  stooped  and  raised  it.  Suddenly  he  no- 
ticed on  the  margin  of  the  paper  a  pencilled  line,  faint 
and  wavering,  like  the  words  written  on  the  envelope. 
It  ran  beside  a  passage  in  the  article  "from  a  corre- 
spondent," and  as  he  looked  at  it  consciousness  and 

424 


The    Testing    of   Diana    Mallorg 

pulse  paused  in  dismay.  There,  under  his  eye,  in  that 
dim  mark,  was  the  last  word  and  sign  of  John  Ferrier. 

He  was  still  staring  at  it  when  a  sound  disturbed 
him.  Lady  Lucy  came  to  him,  feebly,  across  the  grass. 
Marsham  dropped  the  newspaper,  retaining  Broadstone's 
letter. 

"Sir  James  wished  me  to  leave  him  a  little,"  she  said, 
brokenly.  "  The  ambulance  will  be  here  directly.  They 
will  take  him  to  Lytchett.  I  thought  it  should  have 
been  Tallyn.  But  Sir  James  decided  it." 

"Mother!" — Marsham  moved  toward  her,  reluctantly 
— "here  is  a  letter — no  doubt  of  importance.  And — it 
is  addressed  to  you." 

Lady  Lucy  gave  a  little  cry.  She  looked  at  the 
pencilled  address,  with  quivering  lips;  then  she  opened 
the  envelope,  and  on  the  back  of  the  closely  written 
letter  she  saw  at  once  Ferrier's  last  words  to  her. 

Marsham,  moved  by  a  son's  natural  impulse,  stooped 
and  kissed  her  hair.  He  drew  a  chair  forward,  and  she 
sank  into  it  with  the  letter.  While  she  was  reading  it 
he  raised  the  Herald  again,  unobserved,  folded  it  up 
hurriedly,  and  put  it  in  his  pocket;  then  walked  away 
a  few  steps,  that  he  might  leave  his  mother  to  her  grief. 
Presently  Lady  Lucy  called  him. 

"Oliver!"  The  voice  was  strong.  He  went  back  to 
her  and  she  received  him  with  sparkling  eyes,  her  hand 
on  Broadstone's  letter. 

"Oliver,  this  is  what  killed  him!  Lord  Broadstone 
must  bear  the  responsibility." 

And  hurriedly,  incoherently,  she  explained  that  the 
letter  from  Lord  Broadstone  was  an  urgent  appeal  to 
Ferrier's  patriotism  and  to  his  personal  friendship  for 
the  writer;  begging  him  for  the  sake  of  party  unity,  and 

?»  425 


The   Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

for  the  sake  of  the  country,  to  allow  the  Prime  Minister 
to  cancel  the  agreement  of  the  day  before;  to  accept  a 
peerage  and  the  War  Office  in  lieu  of  the  Exchequer 
and  the  leadership  of  the  House.  The  Premier  gave  a 
full  account  of  the  insurmountable  difficulties  in  the  way 
of  the  completion  of  the  Government,  which  had  dis- 
closed themselves  during  the  course  of  the  afternoon 
and  evening  following  his  interview  with  Ferrier.  Re- 
fusals of  the  most  unexpected  kind,  from  the  most  un- 
likely quarters;  letters  and  visits  of  protest  from  per- 
sons impossible  to  ignore — most  of  them,  no  doubt,  en- 
gineered by  Lord  Philip;  "finally  the  newspapers  of  this 
morning — especially  the  article  in  the  Herald,  which  you 
will  have  seen  before  this  reaches  you — all  these,  taken 
together,  convince  me  that  if  I  cannot  persuade  you  to 
see  the  matter  in  the  same  light  as  I  do — and  I  know 
well  that,  whether  you  accept  or  refuse,  you  will  put  the 
public  advantage  first  —  I  must  at  once  inform  her 
Majesty  that  my  attempt  to  construct  a  Government 
has  broken  down." 

Marsham  followed  her  version  of  the  letter  as  well  as 
he  could;  and  as  she  turned  the  last  page,  he  too  per- 
ceived the  pencilled  writing,  which  was  not  Broadstone's. 
This  she  did  not  offer  to  communicate;  indeed,  she  cov- 
ered it  at  once  with  her  hand. 

"Yes,  I  suppose  it  was  the  shock,"  he  said,  in  a  low 
voice.  "  But  it  was  not  Broadstone's  fault.  It  was  no 
one's  fault." 

Lady  Lucy  flushed  and  looked  up. 

"  That  man  Barrington !"  she  said,  vehemently.  "  Oh, 
if  I  had  never  had  him  in  my  house!" 

Oliver  made  no  reply.  He  sat  beside  her,  staring  at 
the  grass.  Suddenly  Lady  Lucy  touched  him  on  the  knee. 

426 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

'Oliver!" --her  voice  was  gasping  and  difficult  — 
"Oliver! — you  had  nothing  to  do  with  that?" 

"With  what,  mother?" 

"With  the  Herald  article.  I  read  it  this  morning. 
But  I  laughed  at  it!  John's  letter  arrived  at  the  same 
moment — so  happy,  so  full  of  plans — " 

"Mother! — you  don't  imagine  that  a  man  in  Ferrier's 
position  can  be  upset  by  an  article  in  a  newspaper?" 

"  I  don't  know — the  Herald  was  so  important — I  have 
heard  John  say  so.  Oliver!" — her  face  worked  pain- 
fully— "I  know  you  talked  with  that  man  that  night. 
You  didn't—" 

"  I  didn't  say  anything  of  which  I  am  ashamed,"  he 
said,  sharply,  raising  his  head. 

His  mother  looked  at  him  in  silence.  Their  eyes  met 
in  a  flash  of  strange  antagonism — as  though  each  ac- 
cused the  other. 

A  sound  behind  them  made  Lady  Lucy  turn  round. 
Brown  was  coming  over  the  grass. 

"A  telegram,  sir,  for  you.  Your  coachman  stopped 
the  boy  and  sent  him  here." 

Marsham  opened  it  hastily.  As  he  read  it  his  gray 
and  haggard  face  flushed  again  heavily. 

"  Awful  news  just  reached  me.  Deepest  sympathy  with  you 
and  yours.  Should  be  grateful  if  I  might  see  you  to-day. 

"  BROADSTONE." 

He  handed  it  to  his  mother,  but  Lady  Lucy  scarcely 
took  in  the  sense  of  it.  When  he  left  her  to  write  his 
answer,  she  sat  on  in  the  July  sun  which  had  now  reached 
the  chairs,  mechanically  drawing  her  large  country  hat 
forward  to  shield  her  from  its  glare — a  forlorn  figure, 
with  staring  absent  eyes ;  every  detail  of  her  sharp  slen- 

427 


The  Testing    of   Diana   Mallorg 

dertiess,  her  blanched  and  quivering  face,  the  elegance 
of  her  black  dress,  the  diamond  fastening  the  black  lace 
hat-strings  tied  under  her  pointed  chin — set  in  the  full 
and  searching  illumination  of  mid-day.  It  showed  her 
an  old  woman — left  alone. 

Her  whole  being  rebelled  against  what  had  happened 
to  her.  Life  without  John's  letters,  John's  homage, 
John's  sympathy  —  how  was  it  to  be  endured  ?  Dis- 
guises that  shrouded  her  habitual  feelings  and  instincts 
even  from  herself  dropped  away.  That  Oliver  was  left 
to  her  did  not  make  up  to  her  in  the  least  for  John's 
death. 

The  smart  that  held  her  in  its  grip  was  a  new  experi- 
ence. She  had  never  felt  it  at  the  death  of  the  imperious 
husband,  to  whom  she  had  been,  nevertheless,  decorously 
attached.  Her  thoughts  clung  to  those  last  broken  words 
under  her  hand,  trying  to  wring  from  them  something 
that  might  content  and  comfort  her  remorse: 

"  DEAR  LUCY, — I  feel  ill — it  may  be  nothing — Chide  and  you 
may  read  this  letter.  Broadstone  couldn't  help  it.  Tell  him 
so.  Bless  you —  Tell  Oliver —  Yours,  J.  F." 

The  greater  part  of  the  letter  was  all  but  illegible  even 
by  her — but  the  "bless  you"  and  the  "J.F."  were  more 
firmly  written  than  the  rest,  as  though  the  failing  hand 
had  made  a  last  effort. 

Her  spiritual  vanity  was  hungry  and  miserable. 
Surely,  though  she  would  not  be  his  wife,  she  had  been 
John's  best  friend ! — his  good  angel.  Her  heart  clamored 
for  some  warmer,  gratefuller  word — that  might  justify 
her  to  herself.  And,  instead,  she  realized  for  the  first 
time  the  desert  she  had  herself  created,  the  loneliness 
she  had  herself  imposed.  And  with  prophetic  terror  she 

428 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

saw  in  front  of  her  the  daily  self-reproach  that  her  self- 
esteem  might  not  be  able  to  kill. 

"Tell  Oliver— " 

Did  it  mean  "  if  I  die,  tell  Oliver"  ?  But  John  never 
said  anything  futile  or  superfluous  in  his  life.  Was  it 
not  rather  the  beginning  of  some  last  word  to  Oliver  that 
he  could  not  finish?  Oh,  if  her  son  had  indeed  con- 
tributed to  his  death! 

She  shivered  under  the  thought;  hurrying  recollec- 
tions of  Mr.  Barrington's  visit,  of  the  Herald  article  of 
that  morning,  of  Oliver's  speeches  and  doings  during  the 
preceding  month,  rushing  through  her  mind.  She  had 
already  expressed  her  indignation  about  the  Herald  arti- 
cle to  Oliver  that  morning,  on  the  drive  which  had  been 
so  tragically  interrupted. 

"Dear  Lady  Lucy!" 

She  looked  up.     Sir  James  Chide  stood  beside  her. 

The  first  thing  he  did  was  to  draw  her  to  her  feet,  and 
then  to  move  her  chair  into  the  shade. 

"  You  have  lost  more  than  any  of  us,"  he  said,  as  she 
sank  back  into  it,  and,  holding  out  his  hand,  he  took 
hers  into  his  warm  compassionate  clasp.  He  had  never 
thought  that  she  behaved  well  to  Ferrier,  and  he  knew 
that  she  had  behaved  vilely  to  Diana;  but  his  heart 
melted  within  him  at  the  sight  of  a  woman — and  a  gray- 
haired  woman — in  grief. 

"  I  hear  you  found  Broadstone's  letter?"  He  glanced 
at  it  on  her  lap.  "  I  too  have  heard  from  him.  The 
messenger,  as  soon  as  he  knew  I  was  here,  produced  a 
letter  for  me  that  he  was  to  have  taken  on  to  Lytchett. 
It  is  a  nice  letter — a  very  nice  letter,  as  far  as  that 
goes.  Broadstone  wanted  me  to  use  my  influence — with 
John — described  his  difficulties — " 

429 


The  Testing    of    Diana   Mallorg 

Chide's  hand  suddenly  clinched  on  his  knee. 

" — If  I  could  only  get  at  that  creature,  Lord  Philip!" 

"You  think  it  was  the  shock  —  killed  him?"  The 
hard  slow  tears  had  begun  again  to  drop  upon  her  dress. 

"Oh!  he  has  been  an  ill  man  since  May,"  said  Chide, 
evasively.  "  No  doubt  there  has  been  heart  mischief — 
unsuspected — for  a  long  time.  The  doctors  will  know — 
presently.  Poor  Broadstone!  —  it  will  nearly  kill  him 
too." 

She  held  out  the  letter  to  him. 

"You  are  to  read  it;"  and  then,  in  broken  tones, 
pointing:  "look!  he  said  so." 

He  started  as  he  saw  the  writing  on  the  back,  and 
again  his  hand  pressed  hers  kindly. 

"He  felt  ill,"  she  said,  brokenly;  "he  foresaw  it. 
Those  are  his  last  words — his  precious  last  words." 

She  hid  her  face.  As  Chide  gave  it  back  to  her,  his 
brow  and  lip  had  settled  into  the  look  which  made  him 
so  formidable  in  court.  He  looked  round  him  abruptly. 

"Where  is  the  Herald?  I  hear  Mrs.  Colwood  brought 
it  out." 

He  searched  the  grass  in  vain,  and  the  chairs.  Lady 
Lucy  was  silent.  Presently  she  rose  feebly. 

"When — when  will  they  take  him  away?" 

"  Directly.  The  ambulance  is  coming — I  shall  go 
with  him.  Take  my  arm."  She  leaned  on  him  heavily, 
and  as  they  approached  the  house  they  saw  two  figures 
step  out  of  it — Marsham  and  Diana. 

Diana  came  quickly,  in  her  light  white  dress.  Her 
eyes  were  red,  but  she  was  quite  composed.  Chide 
looked  at  her  with  tenderness.  In  the  two  hours  which 
had  passed  since  the  tragedy  she  had  been  the  help  and 
the  support  of  everybody,  writing,  giving  directions, 

430 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

making  arrangements,  under  his  own  guidance,  while 
keeping  herself  entirely  in  the  background.  No  parade 
of  grief,  no  interference  with  himself  or  the  doctors; 
but  once,  as  he  sat  by  the  body  in  the  darkened  room, 
he  was  conscious  of  her  coming  in,  of  her  kneeling  for  a 
little  while  at  the  dead  man's  side,  of  her  soft,  stifled 
weeping.  He  had  not  said  a  word  to  her,  nor  she  to  him. 
They  understood  each  other. 

And  now  she  came,  with  this  wistful  face,  to  Lady 
Lucy.  She  stood  between  that  lady  and  Marsham,  in 
her  own  garden,  without,  as  it  seemed  to  Sir  James,  a 
thought  of  herself.  As  for  him,  in  the  midst  of  his  own 
sharp  grief,  he  could  not  help  looking  covertly  from  one 
to  the  other,  remembering  that  February  scene  in  Lady 
Lucy's  drawing-room.  And  presently  he  was  sure  that 
Lady  Lucy  too  remembered  it.  Diana  timidly  begged 
that  she  would  take  some  food — some  milk  or  wine — 
before  her  drive  home.  It  was  three  hours — incredible 
as  it  seemed — since  she  had  called  to  them  in  the  road. 
Lady  Lucy,  looking  at  her,  and  evidently  but  half  con- 
scious— at  first — of  what  was  said,  suddenly  colored,  and 
refused — courteously  but  decidedly. 

"  Thank  you.  I  want  nothing.  I  shall  soon  be  home. 
Oliver!" 

"  I  go  to  Lytchett  with  Sir  James,  mother.  Miss 
Mallory  begs  that  you  will  let  Mrs.  Colwood  take  you 
home." 

"  It  is  very  kind,  but  I  prefer  to  go  alone.  Is  my 
carriage  there?" 

She  spoke  like  the  stately  shadow  of  her  normal  self. 
The  carriage  was  waiting.  Lady  Lucy  approached  Sir 
James,  who  was  standing  apart,  and  murmured  some- 
thing in  his  ear,  to  the  effect  that  she  would  come  to 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallorg 

Lytchett  that  evening,  and  would  bring  flowers.  "  Let 
mine  be  the  first,"  she  said,  inaudibly  to  the  rest.  Sir 
James  assented.  Such  observances,  he  supposed,  count 
for  a  great  deal  with  women;  especially  with  those  who 
are  conscious  of  having  trifled  a  little  with  the  weightier 
matters  of  the  law. 

Then  Lady  Lucy  took  her  leave;  Marsham  saw  her 
to  her  carriage.  The  two  left  behind  watched  the  reced- 
ing figures — the  mother,  bent  and  tottering,  clinging  to 
her  son. 

"She  is  terribly  shaken,"  said  Sir  James;  "but  she 
will  never  give  way." 

Diana  did  not  reply,  and  as  he  glanced  at  her,  he  saw 
that  she  was  struggling  for  self-control,  her  eyes  on  the 
ground. 

"And  that  woman  might  have  had  her  for  daughter!" 
he  said  to  himself,  divining  in  her  the  rebuff  of  some 
deep  and  tender  instinct. 

Marsham  came  back. 

"The  ambulance  is  just  arriving." 

Sir  James  nodded,  and  turned  toward  the  house. 
Marsham  detained  him,  dropping  his  voice. 

"Let  me  go  with  him,  and  you  take  my  fly." 
_Sir  James  frowned. 

/  "That  is  all  settled,"  he  said,  peremptorily.  Then  he 
looked  at  Diana.  "  I  will  see  to  everything  in-doors.  Will 
you  take  Miss  Mallory  into  the  garden?" 

Diana  submitted;  though,  for  the  first  time,  her  face 
reddened  faintly.  She  understood  that  Sir  James  wished 
her  to  be  out  of  sight  and  hearing  while  they  moved  the 
dead. 

That  was  a  strange  walk  together  for  these  two !  Side 
by  side,  almost  in  silence,  they  followed  the  garden  path 

432 


The  Testing    of   Diana    Mallorg 

which  had  taken  them  to  the  downs,  on  a  certain  Fet> 
ruary  evening.  The  thought  of  it  hovered,  a  ghost  un- 
laid, in  both  their  minds.  Instinctively,  Marsham  guided 
her  by  this  path,  that  they  might  avoid  that  spot  on  the 
farther  lawn,  where  the  scattered  chairs,  the  trampled 
books  and  papers  still  showed  where  Death  and  Sleep  had 
descended.  Yet,  as  they  passed  it  from  a  distance  he 
saw  the  natural  shudder  run  through  her;  and,  by  associa- 
tion, there  flashed  through  him  intolerably  the  memory 
of  that  moment  of  divine  abandonment  in  their  last  in- 
terview, when  he  had  comforted  her,  and  she  had  clung 
to  him.  And  now,  how  near  she  was  to  him — and  yet 
how  infinitely  remote!  She  walked  beside  him,  her  step 
faltering  now  and  then,  her  head  thrown  back,  as  though 
she  craved  for  air  and  coolness  on  her  brow  and  tear- 
stained  eyes.  He  could  not  flatter  himself  that  his 
presence  disturbed  her,  that  she  was  thinking  at  all  about 
him.  As  for  him,  his  mind,  held  as  it  still  was  in  the 
grip  of  catastrophe,  and  stunned  by  new  compunctions, 
was  still  susceptible  from  time  to  time  of  the  most  dis- 
cordant and  agitating  recollections — memories  glancing, 
lightning- quick,  through  the  mind,  unsummoned  and 
shattering,  j  Her  face  in  the  moonlight,  her  voice  in  the 
great  words  of  her  promise — "all  that  a  woman  can!" — • 
that  wretched  evening  in  the  House  of  Commons  when 
he  had  finally  deserted  her — a  certain  passage  with 
Alicia,  in  the  Tallyn  woods — these  images  quivered,  as  it 
were,  through  nerve  and  vein,  disabling  and  silencing 
him. 

But  presently,  to  his  astonishment,  Diana  began  to 
talk,  in  her  natural  voice,  without  a  trace  of  preoccupa- 
tion or  embarrassment.  She  poured  out  her  latest  recol- 
lections of  Ferrier.  She  spoke,  brushing  away  her  tears 

433 


The   Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

sometimes,  of  his  visit  in  the  morning,  and  his  talk  as  he 
lay  beside  them  on  the  grass— his  recent  letters  to  her — 
her  remembrance  of  him  in  Italy. 

Marsham  listened  in  silence.  What  she  said  was  new 
to  him,  and  often  bitter.  He  had  known  nothing  of  this 
intimate  relation  which  had  sprung  up  so  rapidly  be- 
tween her  and  Ferrier.  While  he  acknowledged  its  beauty 
and  delicacy,  the  very  thought  of  it,  even  at  this  moment, 
filled  him  with  an  irritable  jealousy.  The  new  bond  had 
arisen  out  of  the  wreck  of  those  he  had  himself  broken; 
Ferrier  had  turned  to  her,  and  she  to  Ferrier,  just  as  he, 
by  his  own  acts,  had  lost  them  both;  it  might  be  right 
and  natural;  he  winced  under  it — in  a  sense,  resented 
it — none  the  less. 

And  all  the  time  he  never  ceased  to  be  conscious  of 
the  newspaper  in  his  breast-pocket,  and  of  that  faint 
pencilled  line  that  seemed  to  burn  against  his  heart. 

Would  she  shrink  from  him,  finally  and  irrevocably, 
if  she  knew  it  ?  Once  or  twice  he  looked  at  her  curiously, 
wondering  at  the  power  that  women  have  of  filling  and 
softening  a  situation.  Her  broken  talk  of  Ferrier  was 
the  only  possible  talk  that  could  have  arisen  between 
them  at  that  moment  without  awkwardness,  without 
risk.  To  that  last  ground  of  friendship  she  could  still 
admit  him,  and  a  wounded  self-love  suggested  that  she 
chose  it  for  his  sake  as  well  as  Ferrier's. 

Of  course,  she  had  seen  him  with  Alicia,  and  must 
have  drawn  her  conclusions.  Four  months  after  the 
breach  with  her! — and  such  a  breach!  As  he  walked 
beside  her  through  the  radiant  scented  garden,  with  its 
massed  roses  and  delphiniums,  its  tangle  of  poppy  and 
lupin,  he  suddenly  beheld  himself  as  a  kind  of  outcast — 
distrusted  and  disliked  by  an  old  friend  like  Chide, 

434 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

separated  forever  from  the  good  opinion  of  this  girl 
whom  he  had  loved,  suspected  even  by  his  mother,  and 
finally  crushed  by  this  unexpected  tragedy,  and  by  the 
shock  of  Harrington's  unpardonable  behavior. 

Then  his  whole  being  reacted  in  a  fierce  protesting 
irritation.  He  had  been  the  victim  of  circumstance  as 
much  as  she.  His  will  hardened  to  a  passionate  self- 
defence;  he  flung  off,  he  held  at  bay,  an  anguish  that 
must  and  should  be  conquered.  He  had  to  live  his  life. 
He  would  live  it. 

They  passed  into  the  orchard,  where,  amid  the  old 
trees,  covered  with  tiny  green  apples,  some  climbing  roses 
were  running  at  will,  hanging  their  trails  of  blossom, 
crimson  and  pale  pink,  from  branch  to  branch.  Linnets 
and  blackbirds  made  a  pleasant  chatter;  the  grass 
beneath  the  trees  was  rich  and  soft,  and  through  their 
tops,  one  saw  white  clouds  hovering  in  a  blazing 
blue. 

Diana  turned  suddenly  toward  the  house. 

"  I  think  we  may  go  back  now,"  she  said,  and  her  hand 
contracted  and  her  lip,  as  though  she  realized  that  her 
dear  dead  friend  had  left  her  roof  forever. 

They  hurried  back,  but  there  was  still  time  for  con- 
versation. 

"You  knew  him,  of  course,  from  a  child?"  she  said  to 
him,  glancing  at  him  with  timid  interrogation. 

In  reply  he  forced  himself  to  play  that  part  of  Fer- 
rier's  intimate — almost  son — which,  indeed,  she  had  given 
him,  by  implication,  throughout  her  own  talk.  In  this 
she  had  shown  a  tact,  a  kindness  for  which  he  owed  her 
gratitude.  She  must  have  heard  the  charges  brought 
against  him  by  the  Ferrier  party  during  the  election,  yet, 
noble  creature  that  she  was,  she  had  not  believed  them. 

435 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallorg 

He  could  have  thanked  her  aloud,  till  he  remembered 
that  marked  newspaper  in  his  pocket. 

Once  a  straggling  rose  branch  caught  in  her  dress. 
He  stooped  to  free  it.  Then  for  the  first  time  he  saw  her 
shrink.  The  instinctive  service  had  made  them  man  and 
woman  again — not  mind  and  mind;  and  he  perceived, 
with  a  miserable  throb,  that  she  could  not  be  so  uncon- 
scious of  his  identity,  his  presence,  their  past,  as  she  had 
seemed  to  be. 

She  had  lost — he  realized  it — the  bloom  of  first  youth. 
How  thin  was  the  hand  which  gathered  up  her  dress! — 
the  hand  once  covered  with  his  kisses.  Yet  she  seemed 
to  him  lovelier  than  ever,  and  he  divined  her  more  wom- 
an than  ever,  more  instinct  with  feeling,  life,  and  passion. 

Sir  James's  messenger  met  them  half-way.  At  the 
door  the  ambulance  waited. 

Chide,  bareheaded,  and  a  group  of  doctors,  gardeners, 
and  police  stood  beside  it. 

"I  follow  you,"  said  Marsham  to  Sir  James.  '.'There 
is  a  great  deal  to  do." 

Chide  assented  coldly.  "I  have  written  to  Broad- 
stone,  and  I  have  sent  a  preliminary  statement  to  the 
papers." 

"I  can  take  anything  you  want  to  town,"  said  Mar- 
sham,  hastily.  "I  must  go  up  this  evening." 

He  handed  Broadstone's  telegram  to  Sir  James. 

Chide  read  it  and  returned  it  in  silence.  Then  he 
entered  the  ambulance,  taking  his  seat  beside  the  shroud- 
ed form  within.  Slowly  it  drove  away,  mounted  police 
accompanying  it.  It  took  a  back  way  from  Beechcote, 
thus  avoiding  the  crowd,  which  on  the  village  side  had 
gathered  round  the  gates. 

436 


The    Testing   of    Diana    Mallory 

Diana,  on  the  steps,  saw  it  go,  following  it  with  her 
eyes;  standing  very  white  and  still.  Then  Marsham 
lifted  his  hat  to  her,  conscious  through  every  nerve  of 
the  curiosity  among  the  little  group  of  people  standing 
by.  Suddenly,  he  thought,  she  too  divined  it.  For 
she  looked  round  her,  bowed  to  him  slightly,  and  dis- 
appeared with  Mrs.  Colwood. 

He  spent  two  or  three  hours  at  Lytchett,  making  the 
first  arrangements  for  the  funeral,  with  Sir  James.  It 
was  to  be  at  Tallyn,  and  the  burial  in  the  church-yard 
of  the  old  Tallyn  church.  Sir  James  gave  a  slow  and 
grudging  assent  to  this;  but  in  the  end  he  did  assent, 
after  the  relations  between  him  and  Marsham  had  be- 
come still  more  strained. 

Further  statements  were  drawn  up  for  the  newspa- 
pers. As  the  afternoon  wore  on  the  grounds  and  hall 
of  Lytchett  betrayed  the  presence  of  a  number  of  re- 
porters, hurriedly  sent  thither  by  the  chief  London  and 
provincial  papers.  By  now  the  news  had  travelled 
through  England. 

Marsham  worked  hard,  saving  Sir  James  all  he  could. 
Another  messenger  arrived  from  Lord  Broadstone,  with 
a  pathetic  letter  for  Sir  James.  Chide's  face  darkened 
over  it.  "Broadstone  must  bear  up,"  he  said  to  Mar- 
sham,  as  they  stood  together  in  Chide's  sanctum.  "It 
was  not  his  fault,  and  he  has  the  country  to  think  of. 
You  tell  him  so.  Now,  are  you  off?" 

Marsham  replied  that  his  fly  had  been  announced. 

"What  '11  they  offer  you?"  said  Chide,  abruptly. 

"Offer  me?  It  doesn't  much  matter,  does  it? — on 
a  day  like  this?"  Marsham's  tone  was  equally  curt. 
Then  he  added:  "I  shall  be  here  again  to-morrow." 

437 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

Chide  acquiesced.  When  Marsham  had  driven  off, 
and  as  the  sound  of  the  wheels  died  away,  Chide  uttered 
a  fierce  inarticulate  sound.  His  hot  Irish  heart  swelled 
within  him.  He  walked  hurriedly  to  and  fro,  his  hands 
in  his  pockets. 

"John! — John!"  he  groaned.  "They'll  be  dancing 
and  triumphing  on  your  grave  to-night,  John ;  and  that 
fellow  you  were  a  father  to — like  the  rest.  But  they 
shall  do  it  without  me,  John — they  shall  do  it  without 
me!" 

And  he  thought,  with  a  grim  satisfaction,  of  the  note 
he  had  just  confided  to  the  Premier's  second  messenger 
refusing  the  offer  of  the  Attorney-Generalship.  He  was 
sorry  for  Broadstone;  he  had  done  his  best  to  comfort 
him;  but  he  would  serve  in  no  Government  with  John's 
supplanters. 

Meanwhile  Marsham  was  speeding  up  to  town.  At 
every  way-side  station,  under  the  evening  light,  he  saw 
the  long  lines  of  placards:  "Sudden  death  of  Mr.  Fer- 
rier.  Effect  on  the  new  Ministry."  Every  paper  he 
bought  was  full  of  comments  and  hasty  biographies. 
There  was  more  than  a  conventional  note  of  loss  in  them. 
Ferrier  was  not  widely  popular,  in  the  sense  in  which 
many  English  statesmen  have  been  popular,  but  there 
was  something  in  his  personality  that  had  long  since 
won  the  affection  and  respect  of  all  that  public,  in  all 
classes,  which  really  observes  and  directs  English  affairs. 
He  was  sincerely  mourned,  and  he  would  be  practically 
missed. 

But  the  immediate  effect  would  be  the  triumph  of 
the  Cave,  a  new  direction  given  to  current  politics. 
That  no  one  doubted. 

438 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

Marsham  was  lost  in  tumultuous  thought.  The  truth 
was  that  the  two  articles  in  the  Herald  of  that  morning, 
which  had  arrived  at  Tallyn  by  nine  o'clock,  had  struck 
him  with  nothing  less  than  consternation. 

Ever  since  his  interview  with  Barrington,  he  had  per- 
suaded himself  that  in  it  he  had  laid  the  foundations  of 
party  reunion;  and  he  had  since  been  eagerly  scanning 
the  signs  of  slow  change  in  the  attitude  of  the  party 
paper,  combined — as  they  had  been  up  to  this  very  day 
—with  an  unbroken  personal  loyalty  to  Ferrier.  But 
the  article  of  this  morning  had  shown  a  complete — and 
in  Oliver's  opinion,  as  he  read  it  at  the  breakfast-table — 
an  extravagant  volte-face.  It  amounted  to  nothing  less 
than  a  vehement  appeal  to  the  new  Prime  Minister  to 
intrust  the  leadership  of  the  House  of  Commons,  at  so 
critical  a  moment,  to  a  man  more  truly  in  sympathy 
with  the  forward  policy  of  the  party. 

"We  have  hoped  against  hope,"  said  the  Herald; 
"we  have  supported  Mr.  Ferrier  against  all  opposition; 
but  a  careful  reconsideration  and  analysis  of  his  latest 
speeches — taken  together  with  our  general  knowledge 
public  and  private,  of  the  political  situation — have  con- 
vinced us,  sorely  against  our  will,  that  while  Mr.  Ferrier 
must,  of  course,  hold  one  of  the  most  important  offices  in 
the  new  Cabinet,  his  leadership  of  the  Commons — in  view 
of  the  two  great  measures  to  which  the  party  is  prac- 
tically pledged — could  only  bring  calamity.  He  will  not 
oppose  them;"  that,  of  course, we  know;  but  is  it  possible 
that  he  can  -fight  them  through  with  success  ?  We  appeal 
to  his  patriotism,  which  has  never  yet  failed  him  or  us. 
If  he  will  only  accept  the  peerage  he  has  so  amply  earned, 
together  with  either  the  War  Office  or  the  Admiralty, 
and  represent  the  Government  in  the  Lords,  where  it  is 

439 


The  Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

sorely  in  need  of  strength,  all  will  be  well.  The  leader- 
ship of  the  Commons  must  necessarily  fall  to  that  sec- 
tion of  the  party  which,  through  Lord  Philip's  astonish- 
ing campaign,  has  risen  so  rapidly  in  public  favor.  Lord 
Philip  himself,  indeed,  is  no  more  acceptable  to  the 
moderates  than  Mr.  Ferrier  to  the  Left  Wing.  Heat  of 
personal  feeling  alone  would  prevent  his  filling  the  part 
successfully.  But  two  or  three  men  are  named,  under 
whom  Lord  Philip  would  be  content  to  serve,  while  the 
moderates  would  have  nothing  to  say  against  them." 

This  was  damaging  enough.  But  far  more  serious 
was  the  "communicated"  article  on  the  next  page — 
"from  a  correspondent" — on  which  the  "leader"  was 
based. 

Marsham  saw  at  once  that  the  "correspondent"  was 
really  Barrington  himself,  and  that  the  article  was  wholly 
derived  from  the  conversation  which  had  taken  place  at 
Tallyn,  and  from  the  portions  of  Ferrier's  letters,  which 
Marsham  had  read  or  summarized  for  the  journalist's 
benefit. 

The  passage  in  particular  which  Ferrier's  dying  hand 
had  marked — he  recalled  the  gleam  in  Barrington 's  black 
eyes  as  he  had  listened  to  it,  the  instinctive  movement 
in  his  powerful  hand,  as  though  to  pounce,  vulturelike, 
on  the  letter — and  his  own  qualm  of  anxiety — his  sud- 
den sense  of  having  gone  too  far — his  insistence  on  dis- 
cretion. 

Discretion  indeed!  The  whole  thing  was  monstrous 
treachery.  He  had  warned  the  man  that  these  few 
sentences  were  not  to  be  taken  literally — that  they  were, 
in  fact,  Ferrier's  caricature  of  himself  and  his  true 
opinion.  "You  press  on  me  a  particular  measure," 
they  said,  in  effect,  "you  expect  the  millennium  from 

440 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallorg 

it.  Well,  I'll  tell  you  what  you'll  really  get  by  it'"— 
and  then  a  forecast  of  the  future,  after  the  great  Bill  was 
passed,  in  Ferrier's  most  biting  vein. 

The  passage  in  the  Herald  was  given  as  a  paraphrase, 
or,  rather,  as  a  kind  of  reductio  ad  absurdum  of  one  of 
Ferrier's  last  speeches  in  the  House.  It  was,  in  truth,  a 
literal  quotation  from  one  of  the  letters.  Barrington 
had  an  excellent  memory.  He  had  omitted  nothing. 
The  stolen  sentences  made  the  point,  the  damning  point, 
of  the  article.  They  were  not  exactly  quoted  as  Fer- 
rier's, but  they  claimed  to  express  Ferrier  more  closely 
than  he  had  yet  expressed  himself.  ' '  We  have  excellent 
reason  to  believe  that  this  is,  in  truth,  the  attitude  of 
Mr.  Ferrier."  How,  then,  could  a  man  of  so  cold  and 
sceptical  a  temper  continue  to  lead  the  young  reformers 
of  the  party?  The  Herald,  with  infinite  regret,  made 
its  bow  to  its  old  leader,  and  went  over  bag  and  baggage 
to  the  camp  of  Lord  Philip,  who,  Marsham  could  not 
doubt,  had  been  in  close  consultation  with  the  editor 
through  the  whole  business. 

Again  and  again,  as  the  train  sped  on,  did  Marsham 
go  back  over  the  fatal  interview  which  had  led  to  these 
results.  His  mind,  full  of  an  agony  of  remorse  he  could 
not  still,  was  full  also  of  storm  and  fury  against  Barring- 
ton.  Never  had  a  journalist  made  a  more  shameful  use 
of  a  trust  reposed  in  him. 

With  torturing  clearness,  imagination  built  up  the 
scene  in  the  garden:  the  arrival  of  Broadstone's  letter; 
the  hand  of  the  stricken  man  groping  for  the  news- 
paper; the  effort  of  those  pencilled  lines;  and,  final- 
ly, that  wavering  mark,  John  Ferrier's  last  word  on 
earth. 

If  it  had,  indeed,  been  meant  for  him,  Oliver — well, 

*9  441 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

he  had  received  it;  the  dead  man  had  reached  out  and 
touched  him;  he  felt  the  brand  upon  him;  and  it  was  a 
secret  forever  between  Ferrier  and  himself. 

The  train  was  nearing  St.  Pancras.  Marsham  roused 
himself  with  an  effort.  After  all,  what  fault  was  it  of 
his — this  tragic  coincidence  of  a  tragic  day  ?  If  Ferrier 
had  lived,  all  could  have  been  explained;  or  if  not  all, 
most.  And  because  Ferrier  had  died  of  a  sudden  ail- 
ment, common  among  men  worn  out  with  high  respon- 
sibilities, was  a  man  to  go  on  reproaching  himself  eter- 
nally for  another  man's  vile  behavior — for  the  results 
of  an  indiscretion  committed  with  no  ill-intent  what- 
ever? With  miserable  self-control,  Oliver  turned  his 
mind  to  his  approaching  interview  with  the  Prime 
Minister.  Up  to  the  morning  of  this  awful  day  he  had 
been  hanging  on  the  Cabinet  news  from  hour  to  hour. 
The  most  important  posts  would,  of,  course  be  filled  first. 
Afterward  would  come  the  minor  appointments — and 
then! 

Marsham  found  the  Premier  much  shaken.  He  was 
an  old  man;  he  had  been  a  warm  personal  friend  of 
Ferrier's;  and  the  blow  had  hit  him  hard. 

Evidently  for  a  few  hours  he  had  been  determined  to 
resign ;  but  strong  influences  had  been  brought  to  bear, 
and  he  had  wearily  resumed  his  task. 

Reluctantly,  Marsham  told  the  story.  Poor  Lord 
Broadstone  could  not  escape  from  the  connection  be- 
tween the  arrival  of  his  letter  and  the  seizure  which  had 
killed  his  old  comrade.  He  sat  bowed  beneath  it  for  a 
while;  then,  with  a  fortitude  and  a  self-control  which 
never  fails  men  of  his  type  in  times  of  public  stress 
and  difficulty,  he  roused  himself  to  discuss  the  political 

442 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

situation  which  had  arisen — so  far,  at  least,  as  was  neces- 
sary and  fitting  in  the  case  of  a  man  not  in  the  inner 
circle. 

As  the  two  men  sat  talking  the  messenger  arrived 
from  Beechcote  with  Sir  James  Chide's  letter.  From 
the  Premier's  expression  as  he  laid  it  down  Marsham 
divined  that  it  contained  Chide's  refusal  to  join  the 
Government.  Lord  Broadstone  got  up  and  began  to 
move  to  and  fro,  wrapped  in  a  cloud  of  thought.  He 
seemed  to  forget  Marsham's  presence,  and  Marsham 
made  a  movement  to  go.  As  he  did  so  Lord  Broadstone 
looked  up  and  came  toward  him. 

"I  am  much  obliged  to  you  for  having  come  so 
promptly,"  he  said,  with  melancholy  courtesy.  "  I 
thought  we  should  have  met  soon — on  an  occasion — 
more  agreeable  to  us  both.  As  you  are  here,  forgive 
me  if  I  talk  business.  This  rough-and-tumble  world 
has  to  be  carried  on,  and  if  it  suits  you,  I  shall  be  happy 
to  recommend  your  appointment  to  her  Majesty — as  a 
Junior  Lord  of  the  Treasury — carrying  with  it,  as  of 
course  you  understand,  the  office  of  Second  Whip." 

Ten  minutes  later  Marsham  left  the  Prime  Minister's 
house.  As  he  walked  back  to  St.  Pancras,  he  was  con- 
scious of  yet  another  smart  added  to  the  rest.  If  any- 
thing were  offered  to  him,  he  had  certainly  hoped  for 
something  more  considerable. 

It  looked  as  though  while  the  Ferrier  influence  had 
ignored  him,  the  Darcy  influence  had  not  troubled  itself 
to  do  much  for  him.  That  he  had  claims  could  not  be 
denied.  So  this  very  meagre  bone  had  been  flung  him. 
But  if  he  had  refused  it,  he  would  have  got  nothing  else. 

The  appointment  would  involve  re-election.  All  that 
infernal  business  to  go  through  again! — probably  in 

443 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

the  very  midst  of  disturbances  in  the  mining  district. 
The  news  from  the  collieries  was  as  bad  as  it  could  be. 

He  reached  home  very  late — close  on  midnight.  His 
mother  had  gone  to  bed,  ill  and  worn  out,  and  was  not 
to  be  disturbed.  Isabel  Fotheringham  and  Alicia  await- 
ed him  in  the  drawing-room. 

Mrs.  Fotheringham  had  arrived  in  the  course  of  the 
evening.  She  herself  was  peevish  with  fatigue,  incurred 
in  canvassing  for  two  of  Lord  Philip's  most  headlong 
supporters.  Personally,  she  had  broken  with  John 
Ferrier  some  weeks  before  the  election;  but  the  fact  had 
made  more  impression  on  her  own  mind  than  on  his. 

"Well,  Oliver,  this  is  a  shocking  thing!  However, 
of  course,  Ferrier  had  been  unhealthy  for  a  long  time; 
any  one  could  see  that.  It  was  really  better  it  should 
end  so." 

"You  take  it  calmly!"  he  said,  scandalized  by  her 
manner  and  tone. 

"  I  am  sorry, of  course.  But  Ferrier  had  outlived  him- 
self. The  people  I  have  been  working  among  felt  him 
merely  in  the  way.  But,  of  course,  I  am  sorry  mamma  is 
dreadfully  upset.  That  one  must  expect.  Well,  now 
then — you  have  seen  Broadstone?" 

She  rose  to  question  him,  the  political  passion  in  her 
veins  asserting  itself  against  her  weariness.  She  was 
still  in  her  travelling  dress.  From  her  small,  haggard 
face  the  reddish  hair  was  drawn  tightly  back;  the 
spectacled  eyes,  the  dry  lips,  expressed  a  woman  whose 
life  had  hardened  to  dusty  uses.  Her  mere  aspect  chilled 
and  repelled  her  brother,  and  he  answered  her  questions 
shortly. 

"  Broadstone  has  treated  you  shabbily!"  she  remarked, 
444 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

with  decision;  "but  I  suppose  you  will  have  to  put  up 
with  it.  And  this  terrible  thing  that  has  happened  to-day 
may  tell  against  you  when  it  comes  to  the  election. 
Ferrier  will  be  looked  upon  as  a  martyr,  and  we  shall 
suffer." 

Oliver  turned  his  eyes  for  relief  to  Alicia.  She,  in  a 
soft  black  dress,  with  many  slender  chains,  studded  with 
beautiful  turquoises,  about  her  white  neck,  rested  and 
cheered  his  sight.  The  black  was  for  sympathy  with  the 
family  sorrow;  the  turquoises  were  there  because  he 
specially  admired  them;  he  understood  them  both.  The 
night  was  hot,  and  without  teasing  him  with  questions 
she  had  brought  him  a  glass  of  iced  lemonade,  touching 
him  caressingly  on  the  arm  while  he  drank  it. 

"Poor  Mr.  Ferrier!  It  was  terribly,  terribly  sad!" 
Her  voice  was  subtly  tuned  and  pitched.  It  made  no 
fresh  claim  on  emotion,  of  which,  in  his  mental  and  moral 
exhaustion,  he  had  none  to  give ;  but  it  more  than  met 
the  decencies  of  the  situation,  which  Isabel  had  flouted. 

"  So  there  will  be  another  election  ?"  she  said,  presently, 
still  standing  in  front  of  him,  erect  and  provocative,  her 
eyes  fixed  on  his. 

"Yes;  but  I  sha'n't  be  such  a  brute  as  to  bother  you 
with  it  this  time." 

"I  shall  decide  that  for  myself,"  she  said,  lightly. 
Then — after  a  pause:  "So  Lord  Philip  has  won! — all 
along  the  line!  I  should  like  to  know  that  man!" 

"You  do  know  him." 

"Oh,  just  to  pass  the  time  of  day.  That's  nothing. 
But  I  am  to  meet  him  at  the  Treshams'  next  week." 
Her  eyes  sparkled  a  little.  Marsham  glanced  at  his 
sister,  who  was  gathering  up  some  small  possessions  at 
the  end  of  the  room. 

445 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

"Don't  try  and  make  a  fool  of  him!"  he  said,  in  a  low 
voice.  "He's  not  your  sort." 

"Isn't  he?"  She  laughed.  "  I  suppose  he's  one  of  the 
biggest  men  in  England  now.  And  somebody  told  me 
the  other  day  that,  after  losing  two  or  three  fortunes,  he 
had  just  got  another." 

Marsham  nodded. 

" Altogether,  an  excellent  parti" 

Alicia's  infectious  laugh  broke  out.  She  sat  down 
beside  him,  with  her  hands  round  her  knees. 

"  You  look  miles  better  than  when  you  came  in.  But 
I  think — you'd  better  go  to  bed." 

As  Marsham,  in  undressing,  flung  his  coat  upon  a 
chair,  the  copy  of  the  Herald  which  he  had  momentarily 
forgotten  fell  out  of  the  inner  pocket.  He  raised  it — 
irresolute.  Should  he  tear  it  up,  and  throw  the  frag- 
ments away? 

No.  He  could  not  bring  himself  to  do  it.  It  was  as 
though  Ferrier,  lying  still  and  cold  at  Lytchett,  would 
know  of  it — as  though  the  act  would  do  some  roughness 
to  the  dead. 

He  went  into  his  sitting-room,  found  an  empty  drawer 
in  his  writing-table,  thrust  in  the  newspaper,  and  closed 
the  drawer. 


CHAPTER  XX 

"  T  REGARD  this  second  appeal  to  West  Brookshire  as 

1  an  insult!  "  said  the  Vicar  of  Beechcote,  hotly.  "  If 
Mr.  Marsham  must  needs  accept  an  office  that  involved 
re-election  he  might  have  gone  elsewhere.  I  see  there  is 
already  a  vacancy  by  death — and  a  Liberal  seat,  too — 
in  Sussex.  We  told  him  pretty  plainly  what  we  thought 
of  him  last  time." 

"  And  now  I  suppose  you  will  turn  him  out  ?"  asked  the 
doctor,  lazily.  In  the  beatitude  induced  by  a  completed 
article  and  an  afternoon  smoke,  he  was  for  the  moment 
incapable  of  taking  a  tragic  view  either  of  Marsham 's 
shortcomings  or  his  prospects. 

"  Certainly,  we  shall  turn  him  out." 

"Ah! — a  Labor  candidate?"  said  the  doctor,  showing 
a  little  more  energy. 

Whereupon  the  Vicar,  with  as  strong  a  relish  for  the 
primeur  of  an  important  piece  of  news  as  any  secular 
fighter,  described  a  meeting  held  the  night  before  in  one 
of  the  mining  villages,  at  which  he  had  been  a  speaker. 
The  meeting  had  decided  to  run  a  miners'  candidate; 
expenses  had  been  guaranteed;  and  the  resolution  passed 
meant,  according  to  Lavery,  that  Marsham  would  be 
badly  beaten,  and  that  Colonel  Simpson,  his  Conservative 
opponent,  would  be  handsomely  presented  with  a  seat 
in  Parliament,  to  which  his  own  personal  merits  had  no 
claim  whatever. 

447 


The  Testing    of   Diana    Mallorij 

"But  that  we  put  up  with,"  said  the  Vicar,  grimly. 
"The  joy  of  turning  out  Marsham  is  compensation." 

The  doctor  turned  an  observant  eye  on  his  com- 
panion's clerical  coat. 

"Shall  we  hear  these  sentiments  next  Sunday  from 
the  pulpit?"  he  asked,  mildly. 

The  Vicar  had  the  grace  to  blush  slightly. 

"  I  say,  no  doubt,  more  than  I  should  say,"  he  ad- 
mitted. Then  he  rose,  buttoning  his  long  coat  down  his 
long  body  deliberately,  as  though  by  the  action  he  tried 
to  restrain  the  surge  within;  but  it  overflowed  all  the 
same.  "I  know  now,"  he  said,  with  a  kindling  eye, 
holding  out  a  gaunt  hand  in  farewell,  "what  our  Lord 
meant  by  sending,  not  peace — but  a  sword!" 

"So,  no  doubt,  did  Torquemada!"  replied  the  doctor, 
surveying  him. 

The  Vicar  rose  to  the  challenge. 

"  I  will  be  no  party  to  the  usual  ignorant  abuse  of 
the  Inquisition,"  he  said,  firmly.  "We  live  in  days  of 
license,  and  have  no  right  to  sit  in  judgment  on  our 
forefathers." 

"  Your  forefathers,"  corrected  the  doctor.  "Mine 
burned." 

The  Vicar  first  laughed;  then  grew  serious.  "  Well,  I'll 
allow  you  two  opinions  on  the  Inquisition,  but  not^— ' 
he  lifted  a  gesticulating  hand — "not  two  opinions  on 
mines  which  are  death-traps  for  lack  of  a  little  money  to 
make  them  safe — not  on  the  kind  of  tyranny  which  says 
to  a  man:  '  Strike  if  you  like,  and  take  a  week's  notice  at 
the  same  time  to  give  up  your  cottage,  which  belongs  to 
the  colliery '  —  or,  '  Make  a  fuss  about  allotments  if 
you  dare,  and  see  how  long  you  keep  your  berth  in  my 
employment:  we  don't  want  any  agitators  here' — or 

448 


The    Testing   of    Diana    Mallory 

maintains,  against  all  remonstrance,  a  brutal  manager  in 
office,  whose  rule  crushes  out  a  man's  self-respect,  and 
embitters  his  soul!" 

"You  charge  all  these  things  against  Marsham?" 

"  He — or,  rather,  his  mother — has  a  large  holding  in 
collieries  against  which  I  charge  them." 

"H'm.  Lady  Lucy  isn't  standing  for  West  Brook- 
shire." 

"No  matter.  The  son's  teeth  are  set  on  edge.  Mar- 
sham  has  been  appealed  to,  and  has  done  nothing  — 
attempted  nothing.  He  makes  eloquent  Liberal  speeches, 
and  himself  spends  money  got  by  grinding  the  poor!" 

"  You  make  him  out  a  greater  fool  than  I  believe  him," 
said  the  doctor.  "  He  has  probably  attempted  a  great 
deal,  and  finds  his  power  limited.  Moreover,  he  has 
been  eight  years  member  here,  and  these  charges  are 
quite  new." 

"Because  the  spirit  abroad  is  new!"  cried  the  Vicar. 
"  Men  will  no  longer  bear  what  their  fathers  bore.  The 
old  excuses,  the  old  pleas,  serve  no  longer.  I  tell  you  the 
poor  are  tired  of  their  patience !  The  Kingdom  of  Heav- 
en, in  its  earthly  aspect,  is  not  to  be  got  that  way — no ! 
'The  violent  take  it  by  force!'  And  as  to  your  remark 
about  Marsham,  half  the  champions  of  democracy  in 
this  country  are  in  the  same  box:  prating  about  liberty 
and  equality  abroad ;  grinding  their  servants  and  under- 
paying their  laborers  at  home.  I  know  scores  of  them; 
and  how  any  of  them  keep  a  straight  face  at  a  public 
meeting  I  never  could  understand.  There  is  a  French 
proverb  that  exactly  expresses  them — 

"I  know,"  murmured  the  doctor,  "I  know.  '  Joie  de 
rue,  douleur  de  maison.'  Well,  and  so,  to  upset  Marsham, 
you  are  going  to  let  the  Tories  in,  eh? — with  all  the  old 

449 


The   Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

tyrannies  and  briberies  on  their  shoulders? — naked  and 
unashamed.  Hullo!" — he  looked  round  him — "don't 
tell  Patricia  I  said  so — or  Hugh." 

"There  is  no  room  for  a  middle  party,"  was  the 
Vicar's  fierce  reply.  "  Socialists  on  the  one  side,  Tories 
on  the  other! — that  '11  be  the  Armageddon  of  the  future." 

The  doctor,  declining  to  be  drawn,  nodded  placidly 
through  the  clouds  of  smoke  that  enwrapped  him.  The 
Vicar  hurried  away,  accompanied,  however,  furtively  to 
the  door,  even  to  the  gate  of  the  drive,  by  Mrs.  Rough- 
sedge,  who  had  questions  to  ask. 

She  came  back  presently  with  a  thoughtful  counte- 
nance. 

"  I  asked  him  what  he  thought  I  ought  to  do  about 
those  tales  I  told  you  of." 

"Why  don't  you  settle  for  yourself?"  cried  the  doc- 
tor, testily.  "That  is  the  way  you  women  flatter  the 
pride  of  tnese  priests!" 

"  Not  at  all.  You  make  him  talk  nonsense ;  I  find 
him  a  fount  of  wisdom." 

"  I  admit  he  knows  some  moral  theology,"  said  Rough- 
sedge,  thoughtfully.  "  He  has  thought  a  good  deal  about 
'sins'  and  'sin.'  Well,  what  was  his  view  about  these 
particular  '  sinners '  ?" 

"He  thinks  Diana  ought  to  know." 

"  She  can't  do  any  good,  and  it  will  keep  her  awake 
at  nights.  I  object  altogether." 

However,  Mrs.  Roughsedge,  having  first  dropped  a 
pacifying  kiss  on  her  husband's  gray  hair,  went  up-stairs 
to  put  on  her  things,  declaring  that  she  was  going  there 
and  then  to  Beechcote. 

The  doctor  was  left  to  ponder  over  the  gossip  in  ques- 
tion, and  what  Diana  could  possibly  do  to  meet  it.  Poor 


The   Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

child! — was  she  never  to  be  free  from  scandal  and  pub- 
licity ? 

As  to  the  couple  of  people  involved — Fred  Birch  and 
that  odious  young  woman  Miss  Fanny  Merton — he  did 
not  care  in  the  least  what  happened  to  them.  And  he 
could  not  see,  for  the  life  of  him,  why  Diana  should  care 
either.  But  of  course  she  would.  In  her  ridiculous 
way,  she  would  think  she  had  some  kind  of  responsibility, 
just  because  the  girl's  mother  and  her  mother  happened 
to  have  been  brought  up  in  the  same  nursery. 

"A  plague  on  Socialist  vicars,  and  a  plague  on  dear 
good  women!"  thought  the  doctor,  knocking  out  his 
pipe.  "What  with  philanthropy  and  this  delicate  al- 
truism that  takes  the  life  out  of  women,  the  world  be- 
comes a  kind  of  impenetrable  jungle,  in  which  every- 
body's business  is  intertwined  with  everybody  else's, 
and  there  is  nobody  left  with  primitive  brutality  enough 
to  hew  a  way  through !  And  those  of  us  that  might  lead 
a  decent  life  on  this  ill-arranged  planet  are  all  crippled 
and  hamstrung  by  what  we  call  unselfishness."  The 
doctor  vigorously  replenished  his  pipe.  "  I  vow  I  will 
go  to  Greece  next  spring,  and  leave  Patricia  behind!" 

Meanwhile,  Mrs.  Roughsedge  walked  to  Beechcote — 
in  meditation.  The  facts  she  pondered  were  these,  to 
put  them  as  shortly  as  possible.  Fred  Birch  was  fast 
becoming  the  mauvais  sujet  of  the  district.  His  practice  }/ 
was  said  to  be  gone,  his  money  affairs  were  in  a  desperate 
condition,  and  his  mother  and  sister  had  already  taken 
refuge  with  relations.  He  had  had  recourse  to  the  time- 
honored  expedients  of  his  type:  betting  on  horses  and 
on  stocks  with  other  people's  money.  It  was  said  that 
he  had  kept  on  the  safe  side  of  the  law;  but  one  or 
two  incidents  in  his  career  had  emerged  to  light  quite 

45* 


The   Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

recently,  which  had  led  all  the  scrupulous  in  Duns- 
combe  to  close  their  doors  upon  him;  and  as  he  had  no 
means  of  bribing  the  unscrupulous,  he  had  now  become 
a  mere  object-lesson  for  babes  as  to  the  advantages  of 
honesty. 

At  the  same  time  Miss  Fanny  Merton,  first  introduced 
to  Brookshire  by  Brookshire's  favorite,  Diana  Mallory, 
was  constantly  to  be  seen  in  the  black  sheep's  company. 
They  had  been  observed  together,  both  in  London  and 
the  country — at  race-meetings  and  theatres ;  and  a  brawl 
in  the  Dunscombe  refreshment-room,  late  at  night,  in 
which  Birch  had  been  involved,  brought  out  the  scan- 
dalous fact  that  Miss  Merton  was  in  his  company.  Birch 
was  certainly  not  sober,  and  it  was  said  by  the  police 
that  Miss  Merton  also  had  had  more  port  wine  than  was 
good  for  her. 

All  this  Brookshire  knew,  and  none  of  it  did  Diana 
know.  Since  her  return  she  and  Mrs.  Colwood  had  lived 
so  quietly  within  their  own  borders  that  the  talk  of  the 
neighborhood  rarely  reached  her,  and  those  persons  who 
came  in  contact  with  her  were  far  too  deeply  touched 
by  the  signs  of  suffering  in  the  girl's  face  and  manner  to 
breathe  a  word  that  might  cause  her  fresh  pain.  Brook- 
shire knew,  through  one  or  other  of  the  mysterious  chan- 
nels by  which  such  news  travels,  that  the  two  cousins 
were  uncongenial;  that  it  was  Fanny  Merton  who  had 
revealed  to  Diana  her  mother's  history,  and  in  an  abrupt, 
unfeeling  way;  and  that  the  two  girls  were  not  now  in 
communication.  Fanny  had  been  boarding  with  friends 
in  Bloomsbury,  and  was  supposed  to  be  returning  to  her 
family  in  Barbadoes  in  the  autumn. 

The  affair  at  the  refreshment-room  was  to  be  heard  of 
at  Petty  Sessions,  and  would,  therefore,  get  into  the  local 

452 


The   Testing    of   Diana  Mallory 

papers.  Mrs.  Roughsedge  felt  there  was  nothing  for  it; 
Diana  must  be  told.  But  she  hated  her  task. 

On  reaching  Beechcote  she  noticed  a  fly  at  the  door, 
and  paused  a  moment  to  consider  whether  her  visit 
might  not  be  inopportune.  It  was  a  beautiful  day,  and 
Diana  and  Mrs.  Colwood  were  probably  to  be  found  in 
some  corner  of  the  garden.  Mrs.  Roughsedge  walked 
round  the  side  of  the  house  to  reconnoitre. 

As  she  reached  the  beautiful  old  terrace  at  the  back  of 
the  house,  on  which  the  drawing-room  opened,  suddenly 
a  figure  came  flying  through  the  drawing-room  window — 
the  figure  of  a  girl  in  a  tumbled  muslin  dress,  with  a 
large  hat,  and  a  profusion  of  feathers  and  streamers 
fluttering  about  her.  In  her  descent  upon  the  terrace 
she  dropped  her  gloves;  stooping  to  pick  them  up,  she 
dropped  her  boa;  in  her  struggle  to  recapture  that,  she 
trod  on  and  tore  her  dress. 

"Damn!"  said  the  young  lady,  furiously. 

And  at  the  voice,  the  word,  the  figure,  Mrs.  Rough- 
sedge  stood  arrested  and  open-mouthed,  her  old  wom- 
an's bonnet  slipping  back  a  little  on  her  gray  curls. 

The  young  woman  was  Fanny  Merton.  She  had 
evidently  just  arrived,  and  was  in  search  of  Diana.  Mrs. 
Roughsedge  thought  a  moment,  and  then  turned  and 
sadly  walked  home  again.  No  good  interfering  now! 
Poor  Diana  would  have  to  tackle  the  situation  for  her- 
self. 

Diana  and  Mrs.  Colwood  were  on  the  lawn,  surrep- 
titiously at  work  on  clothes  for  the  child  in  the  spinal 
jacket,  who  was  soon  going  away  to  a  convalescent 
home,  and  had  to  be  rigged  out.  The  grass  was  strewn 
with  pieces  of  printed  cotton  and  flannel,  with  books 

453 


The   Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

and  work-baskets.  But  they  were  not  sitting  where 
Ferrier  had  looked  his  last  upon  the  world  three  weeks 
before.  There,  under  the  tall  limes,  across  the  lawn,  on 
that  sad  and  sacred  spot,  Diana  meant  in  the  autumn 
to  plant  a  group  of  cypresses  (the  tree  of  mourning) 
"for  remembrance." 

"Fanny!"  cried  Diana,  in  amazement,  rising  from 
her  chair. 

At  her  cousin's  voice,  Fanny  halted,  a  few  yards  away. 

"Well,"  she  said,  defiantly,  "of  course  I  know  you 
didn't  expect  to  see  me!" 

Diana  had  grown  very  pale.  Muriel  saw  a  shiver 
run  through  her — the  shiver  of  the  victim  brought  once 
more  into  the  presence  of  the  torturer. 

"I  thought  you  were  in  London,"  she  stammered, 
moving  forward  and  holding  out  her  hand  mechanically. 
"Please  come  and  sit  down."  She  cleared  a  chair  of 
the  miscellaneous  needlework  upon  it. 

"I  want  to  speak  to  you  very  particularly,"  said 
Fanny.  "And  it's  private!"  She  looked  at  Mrs.  Col- 
wood,  with  whom  she  had  exchanged  a  frosty  greeting. 
Diana  made  a  little  imploring  sign,  and  Muriel — un- 
willingly— moved  away  toward  the  house. 

"Well,  I  don't  suppose  you  want  to  have  anything  to 
do  with  me,"  said  Fanny,  after  a  moment,  in  a  sulky 
voice.  "But,  after  all,  you're  mother's  niece.  I'm  in  a 
pretty  tight  fix,  and  it  mightn't  be  very  pleasant  for  you 
if  things  came  to  the  worst." 

She  had  thrown  off  her  hat,  and  was  patting  and 
pulling  the  numerous  puffs  and  bandeaux,  in  which  her 
hair  was  arranged,  with  a  nervous  hand.  Diana  was 
aghast  at  her  appearance.  The  dirty  finery  of  her  dress 
had  sunk  many  degrees  in  the  scale  of  decency  and 

454 


The    Testing   of    Diana    Mallorg 

refinement  since  February.  Her  staring  brunette  color 
had  grown  patchy  and  unhealthy,  her  eyes  had  a  fur- 
tive audacity,  her  lips  a  coarseness,  which  might  have 
been  always  there;  but  in  the  winter,  youth  and  high 
spirits  had  to  some  extent  disguised  them. 

"Aren't  you  soon  going  home?"  asked  Diana,  looking 
at  her  with  a  troubled  brow. 

"No,  I'm — I'm  engaged.  I  thought  you  might  have 
known  that!"  The  girl  turned  fiercely  upon  her. 

"No— I  hadn't  heard—" 

"Well,  I  don't  know  where  you  live  all  your  time!" 
said  Fanny,  impatiently.  "There's  heaps  of  people  at 
Dunscombe  know  that  I've  been  engaged  to  Fred  Birch 
for  three  months.  I  wasn't  going  to  write  to  you,  of 
course,  because  I — well! — I  knew  you  thought  I'd  been 
rough  on  you — about  that — you  know." 

"Fred  Birch ! "    Diana's  voice  was  faltering  and  amazed. 

Fanny  twisted  her  hat  in  her  hands. 

"He's  all  right,"  she  said,  angrily,  "if  his  business 
hadn't  been  ruined  by  a  lot  of  nasty  crawling  tale-tellers. 
If  people  'd  only  mind  their  own  business!  However, 
there  it  is — he's  ruined — he  hasn't  got  a  penny  piece — 
and,  of  course,  he  can't  marry  me,  if — well,  if  somebody 
don't  help  us  out." 

Diana's  face  changed. 

"Do  you  mean  that  I  should  help  you  out?" 

"Well,  there's  no  one  else!"  said  Fanny,  still,  as  it 
seemed,  defying  something  or  some  one. 

"I  gave  you — a  thousand  pounds." 

"  You  gave  it  mother!  I  got  precious  little  of  it.  I've 
had  to  borrow,  lately,  from  people  in  the  boarding-house. 
And  I  can't  get  any  more — there!  I'm  just  broke- 
stony." 

455 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

She  was  still  looking  straight  before  her,  but  her  lip 
trembled. 

Diana  bent  forward  impetuously. 

"Fanny!"  she  said,  laying  her  hand  on  her  cousin's, 
"do  go  home!" 

Fanny's  lip  continued  to  tremble. 

"I  tell  you  I'm  engaged,"  she  repeated,  in  a  muffled 
voice. 

"  Don't  marry  him !"  cried  Diana,  imploringly.  "  He's 
not — he's  not  a  good  man." 

"What  do  you  know  about  it?  He's  well  enough, 
though  I  dare  say  he's  not  your  sort.  He'd  be  all  right 
if  somebody  would  just  lend  a  hand — help  him  with  the 
debts,  and  put  him  on  his  feet  again.  He  suits  me,  any- 
way. I'm  not  so  thin-skinned." 

Diana  stiffened.  Fanny's  manner  —  as  of  old — was 
almost  incredible,  considered  as  the  manner  of  one  in 
difficulties  asking  for  help.  The  sneering  insolence  of  it 
inevitably  provoked  the  person  addressed. 

"Have  you  told  Aunt  Bertha?"  she  said,  coldly — 
"asked  her  consent?" 

"  Mother?  Oh,  I've  told  her  I'm  engaged.  She  knows 
very  well  that  I  manage  my  own  business." 

Diana  withdrew  her  chair  a  little. 

"When  are  you  going  to  be  married?  Are  you  still 
with  those  friends?" 

Fanny  laughed. 

" Oh,  Lord,  no!  I  fell  out  with  them  long  ago.  They 
were  a  wretched  lot!  But  I  found  a  girl  I  knew,  and 
we  set  up  together.  I've  been  in  a  blouse-shop  earn- 
ing thirty  shillings  a  week — there!  And  if  I  hadn't, 
I'd  have  starved!" 

Fanny  raised  her  head.  Their  eyes  met:  Fanny's 
456 


The    Testing   of   Diana    Mallory 

full  of  mingled  bravado  and  misery;  Diana's  suddenly 
stricken  with  deep  and  remorseful  distress. 

"Fanny,  I  told  you  to  write  to  me  if  there  was 
anything  wrong!  Why  didn't  you?" 

"You  hated  me!"  said  Fanny,  sullenly. 

"I  didn't!"  cried  Diana,  the  tears  rising  to  her  eyes. 
"But — you  hurt  me  so!"  Then  again  she  bent  forward, 
laying  her  hand  on  her  cousin's,  speaking  fast  and  low. 
"Fanny,  I'm  very  sorry!  —  if  I'd  known  you  were  in 
trouble  I'd  have  come  or  written — I  thought  you  were 
with  friends,  and  I  knew  the  money  had  been  paid.  But, 
Fanny,  I  implore  you! — give  up  Mr.  Birch!  Nobody 
speaks  well  of  him!  You'll  be  miserable! — you  must 
be!" 

"Too  late  to  think  of  that!"  said  Fanny,  doggedly. 

Diana  looked  up  in  sudden  terror.  Fanny  tried  to 
brazen  it  out.  But  all  the  patchy  color  left  her  cheeks, 
and,  dropping  her  head  on  her  hands,  she  began  to  sob. 
Yet  even  the  sobs  were  angry. 

"I  can  go  and  drown  myself!"  she  said,  passionately, 
"and  I  suppose  I'd  better.  Nobody  cares  whether  I 
do  or  not!  He's  made  a  fool  of  me — I  don't  suppose 
mother  '11  take  me  home  again.  And  if  he  doesn't 
marry  me,  I'll  kill  myself  somehow  —  it  don't  matter 
how — before — I've  got  to!" 

Diana  had  dropped  on  her  knees  beside  her  visitor. 
Unconsciously  —  pitifully  —  she  breathed  her  cousin's 
name.  Fanny  looked  up.  She  wrenched  herself  vio- 
lently away. 

"Oh,  it's  all  very  well! — but  we  can't  all  be  such 
saints  as  you.  It  'd  be  all  right  if  he  married  me  direct- 
ly— directly,"  she  repeated,  hurriedly. 

Diana  knelt  still  immovable.  In  her  face  was  that 
30  457 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

agonized  shock  and  recoil  with  which  the  young  and 
pure,  the  tenderly  cherished  and  guarded,  receive  the 
first  withdrawal  of  the  veil  which  hides  from  them  the 
more  brutal  facts  of  life.  But,  as  she  knelt  there,  gaz- 
ing at  Fanny,  another  expression  stole  upon  and  effaced 
the  first.  Taking  shape  and  body,  as  it  were,  from  the 
experience  of  the  moment,  there  rose  into  sight  the  new 
soul  developed  in  her  by  this  tragic  year.  Not  for  her 
— not  for  Juliet  Sparling's  daughter — the  plea  of  cloist- 
ered innocence!  By  a  sharp  transition  her  youth  had 
passed  from  the  Chamber  of  Maiden  Thought  into  the 
darkened  Chamber  of  Experience.  She  had  steeped  her 
heart  in  the  waters  of  sin  and  suffering;  she  put  from 
her  in  an  instant  the  mere  maiden  panic  which  had 
drawn  her  to  her  knees. 

"Fanny,  I'll  help  you!"  she  said,  in  a-  low  voice, 
putting  her  arms  round  her  cousin.  "Don't  cry — I'll 
help  you." 

Fanny  raised  her  head.  In  Diana's  face  there  was 
something  which,  for  the  first  time,  roused  in  the  other 
a  nascent  sense  of  shame.  The  color  came  rushing  into 
her  cheeks;  her  eyes  wavered  painfully. 

"You  must  come  and  stay  here,"  said  Diana,  almost 
in  a  whisper.  "And  where  is  Mr.  Birch?  I  must  see 
him." 

She  rose  as  she  spoke;  her  voice  had  a  decision,  a 
sternness,  that  Fanny  for  once  did  not  resent.  But  she 
shook  her  head  despairingly. 

"  I  can't  get  at  him.  He  sends  my  letters  back.  He'll 
not  marry  me  unless  he's  paid  to." 

"  When  did  you  see  him  last  ?" 

Gradually  the  whole  story  emerged.  The  man  had 
behaved  as  the  coarse  and  natural  man  face  to  face  with 

458 


The   Testing   of   Diana   Maliory 

temptation  and  opportunity  is  likely  to  behave.  The 
girl  had  been  the  victim  first  and  foremost  of  her  own 
incredible  folly.  And  Diana  could  not  escape  the  idea 
that  on  Birch's  side  there  had  not  been  wanting  from 
the  first  an  element  of  sinister  calculation.  If  her  rela- 
tions objected  to  the  situation,  it  could,  of  course,  be  made 
worth  his  while  to  change  it.  All  his  recent  sayings  and 
doings,  as  Fanny  reported  them,  clearly  bore  this  inter- 
pretation. 

As  Diana  sat,  dismally  pondering,  an  idea  flashed 
upon  her.  Sir  James  Chide  was  to  dine  at  Beechcote  that 
night.  He  was  expected  early,  would  take  in  Beech- 
cote,  indeed,  on  his  way  from  the  train  to  Lytchett.  Who 
else  should  advise  her  if  not  he?  In  a  hundred  ways, 
practical  and  tender,  he  had  made  her  understand  that, 
for  her  mother's  sake  and  her  own,  she  was  to  him  as  a 
daughter. 

She  mentioned  him  to  Fanny. 

"Of  course" — she  hurried  over  the  words — "we  need 
only  say  that  you  have  been  engaged.  We  must  con- 
sult him,  I  suppose,  about — about  breach  of  promise  of 
marriage." 

The  odious,  hearsay  phrase  came  out  with  difficulty. 
But  Fanny's  eyes  glistened  at  the  name  of  the  great 
lawyer. 

Her  feelings  toward  the  man  who  had  betrayed  her 
were  clearly  a  medley  of  passion  and  of  hatred.  She 
loved  him  as  she  was  able  to  love;  and  she  wished,  at 
the  same  time,  to  coerce  and  be  revenged  on  him.  The 
momentary  sense  of  shame  had  altogether  passed.  It 
was  Diana  who,  with  burning  cheeks,  stipulated  that 
while  Fanny  must  not  return  to  town,  but  must  stay  at 
Beechcote  till  matters  were  arranged,  she  should  not 

459 


The   Testing    of    Diana    Mallorij 

appear  during  Sir  James's  visit;  and  it  was  Fanny  who 
said,  with  vindictive  triumph,  as  Diana  left  her  in  her 
room;  "Sir  James  '11  know  well  enough  what  sort  of 
damages  I  could  get!" 

After  dinner  Diana  and  Sir  James  walked  up  and 
down  the  lime -walk  in  the  August  moonlight.  His 
affection,  as  soon  as  he  saw  her,  had  been  conscious  of 
yet  another  strain  upon  her,  but  till  she  began  to  talk 
to  him  teie-h-teie  he  got  no  clew  to  it;  and  even  then 
what  he  guessed  had  very  little  to  do  with  what  she  said. 
She  told  her  cousin's  story  so  far  as  she  meant  to  tell  it 
with  complete  self-possession.  Her  cousin  was  in  love 
with  this  wretched  man,  and  had  got  herself  terribly 
talked  about.  She  could  not  be  persuaded  to  give  him 
up,  while  he  could  only  be  induced  to  marry  her  by  the 
prospect  of  money.  Could  Sir  James  see  him  and  find 
out  how  much  would  content  him,  and  whether  any 
decent  employment  could  be  found  for  him? 

Sir  James  held  his  peace,  except  for  the  "  Yeses"  and 
"  Noes  "  that  Diana's  conversation  demanded.  He  would 
certainly  interview  the  young  man;  he  was  very  sorry 
for  her  anxieties;  he  would  see  what  could  be  done. 

Meanwhile,  he  never  communicated  to  her  that  he  had 
travelled  down  to  Beechcote  in  the  same  carriage  with 
Lady  Felton,  the  county  gossip,  and  that  in  addition  to 
other  matters — of  which  more  anon — the  refreshment- 
room  story  had  been  discussed  between  them,  with  ad- 
ditions and  ramifications  leading  to  very  definite  con- 
clusions in  any  rational  mind  as  to  the  nature  of  the 
bond  between  Diana's  cousin  and  the  young  Dunscombe 
solicitor.  Lady  Felton  had  expressed  her  concern  for 
Miss  Mallory.  "Poor  thing! — do  you  think  she  knows? 

460 


The   Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

Why  on  earth  did  she  ever  ask  him  to  Beechcote !  Alicia 
Drake  told  me  she  saw  him  there." 

These  things  Sir  James  did  not  disclose.  He  played 
Diana's  game  with  perfect  discretion.  He  guessed,  even 
that  Fanny  was  in  the  house,  but  he  said  not  a  word. 
No  need  at  all  to  question  the  young  woman.  If  in  such 
a  case  he  could  not  get  round  a  rascally  solicitor,  what 
could  he  do  ? — and  what  was  the  good  of  being  the  leader 
of  the  criminal  Bar? 

Only  when  Diana,  at  the  end  of  their  walk,  shylv 
remarked  that  money  was  not  to  stand  in  the  way;  that 
she  had  plenty;  that  Beechcote  was  no  doubt  too  ex- 
pensive for  her,  but  that  the  tenancy  was  only  a  yearly 
one,  and  she  had  but  to  give  notice  at  Michaelmas,  which 
she  thought  of  doing — only  then  did  Sir  James  allow 
himself  a  laugh. 

"  You  think  I  am  going  to  let  this  business  turn  you 
out  of  Beechcote — eh? — you  preposterous  little  angel!" 

"Not  this  business,"  stammered  Diana;  "but  I  am 
really  living  at  too  great  a  rate." 

Sir  James  grinned,  patted  her  ironically  on  the  shoul- 
der, told  her  to  be  a  good  girl,  and  departed. 

Fanny  stayed  for  a  week  at  Beechcote,  and  at  the 
end  of  that  time  Diana  and  Mrs.  Colwood  accompanied 
her  on  a  Saturday  to  town,  and  she  was  married,  to  a 
sheepish  and  sulky  bridegroom,  by  special  license,  at  a 
Marylebone  church — Sir  James  Chide,  in  the  background, 
looking  on.  They  departed  for  a  three  days'  holiday 
to  Brighton,  and  on  the  fourth  day  they  were  due  to 
sail  by  a  West  Indian  steamer  for  Barbadoes,  where  Sir 
James  had  procured  for  Mr.  Frederick  Birch  a  post  in 
the  office  of  a  large  sugar  estate,  in  which  an  old  friend 

461 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

of  Chide's  had  an  interest.  Fanny  showed  no  rapture 
in  the  prospect  of  thus  returning  to  the  bosom  of  her 
family.  But  there  was  no  help  for  it. 

By  what  means  the  transformation  scene  had  been 
effected  it  would  be  waste  of  time  to  inquire.  Much  to 
Diana's  chagrin,  Sir  James  entirely  declined  to  allow  her 
to  aid  in  it  financially,  except  so  far  as  equipping  her 
cousin  with  clothes  went,  and  providing  her  with  a  small 
sum  for  her  wedding  journey.  Personally,  he  considered 
that  the  week  during  which  Fanny  stayed  at  Beechcote 
was  as  much  as  Diana  could  be  expected  to  contribute, 
and  that  she  had  indeed  paid  the  lion's  share. 

Yet  that  week — if  he  had  known — was  full  of  strange 
comfort  to  Diana.  Often  Muriel,  watching  her,  would 
escape  to  her  own  room  to  hide  her  tears.  Fanny's  second 
visit  was  not  as  her  first.  The  first  had  seen  the  outraging 
and  repelling  of  the  nobler  nature  by  the  ignoble.  Diana 
had  frankly  not  been  able  to  endure  her  cousin.  There 
was  not  a  trace  of  that  now.  Her  father's  papers  had 
told  her  abundantly  how  flimsy,  how  nearly  fraudulent, 
was  the  financial  claim  which  Fanny  and  her  belongings 
had  set  up.  The  thousand  pounds  had  been  got  practi- 
cally on  false  pretences,  and  Diana  knew  it  now,  in  every 
detail.  Yet  neither  toward  that,  nor  toward  Fanny's 
other  and  worse  lapses,  did  she  show  any  bitterness,  any 
spirit  of  mere  disgust  and  reprobation.  The  last  vestige 
of  that  just,  instinctive  pharisaism  which  clothes  an  un- 
stained youth  had  dropped  from  her.  As  the  heir  of 
her  mother's  fate,  she  had  gone  down  into  the  dark  sea 
of  human  wrong  and  misery,  and  she  had  emerged 
transformed,  more  akin  by  far  to  the  wretched  and  the 
unhappy  than  to  the  prosperous  and  the  untempted,  so 
that,  through  all  repulsion  and  shock,  she  took  Fanny 

462 


"SIR  JAMES   PLAYED    DIANA'S   GAME   WITH  PERFECT    DISCRETION" 


The   Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

now  as  she  found  her — bearing  with  her — accepting  her 
— loving  her,  as  far  as  she  could.  At  the  last  even  that 
stubborn  nature  was  touched.  When  Diana  kissed  her 
after  the  wedding,  with  a  few  tremulous  good  wishes, 
Fanny's  gulp  was  not  all  excitement.  Yet  it  must 
still  be  recorded  that  on  the  wedding-day  Fanny  was 
in  the  highest  spirits,  only  marred  by  some  annoy- 
ance that  she  had  let  Diana  persuade  her  out  of  a  white 
satin  wedding-dress. 

Diana's  preoccupation  with  this  matter  carried  her 
through  the  first  week  of  Marsham's  second  campaign, 
and  deadened  so  far  the  painful  effect  of  the  contest  now 
once  more  thundering  through  the  division.  For  it  was 
even  a  more  odious  battle  than  the  first  had  been.  In  the 
first  place,  the  moderate  Liberals  held  a  meeting  very 
early  in  the  struggle,  with  Sir  William  Felton  in  the 
chair,  to  protest  against  the  lukewarm  support  which 
Marsham  had  given  to  the  late  leader  of  the  Opposition, 
to  express  their  lamentation  for  Ferrier,  and  their  dis- 
trust of  Lord  Philip ;  and  to  decide  upon  a  policy. 

At  the  meeting  a  heated  speech  was  made  by  a  gray- 
haired  squire,  an  old  friend  and  Oxford  contemporary  of 
John  Ferrier's,  who  declared  that  he  had  it  on  excellent 
authority  that  the  communicated  article  in  the  Herald, 
which  had  appeared  on  the  morning  of  Ferrier's  sudden 
death,  had  been  written  by  Oliver  Marsham. 

This  statement  was  reported  in  the  newspapers  of  the 
following  morning,  and  was  at  once  denied  by  Marsham 
himself,  in  a  brief  letter  to  the  Times. 

It  was  this  letter  which  Lady  Felton  discussed  hotly 
with  Sir  James  Chide  on  the  day  when  Fanny  Merton's 
misdemeanors  also  came  up  for  judgment. 

463 


The   Testing   of   Diana    Mallorg 

"  He  says  he  didn't  write  it.  Sir  William  declares — a 
mere  quibble!  He  has  it  from  several  people  that 
Harrington  was  at  Tallyn  two  days  before  the  article 
appeared,  and  that  he  spoke  to  one  or  two  friends  next 
day  of  an  'important'  conversation  with  Marsham,  and 
of  the  first-hand  information  he  had  got  from  it.  Nobody 
was  so  likely  as  Oliver  to  have  that  intimate  knowledge 
of  poor  Mr.  Ferrier's  intentions  and  views.  William 
believes  that  he  gave  Harrington  all  the  information  in 
the  article,  and  wrote  nothing  himself,  in  order  that  he 
might  be  able  to  deny  it'." 

Sir  James  met  these  remarks  with  an  impenetrable 
face.  He  neither  defended  Marsham,  nor  did  he  join  in 
Lady  Felton's  denunciations.  But  that  good  lady,  who 
though  voluble  was  shrewd,  told  her  husband  afterward 
that  she  was  certain  Sir  James  believed  Marsham  to  be 
responsible  for  the  Herald  article. 

A  week  later  the  subject  was  renewed  at  a  very  heated 
and  disorderly  meeting  at  Dunscombe.  A  bookseller's 
assistant,  well  known  as  one  of  the  leading  Socialists  of 
the  division,  got  up  and  in  a  suave  mincing  voice  accused 
Marsham  of  having — not  written,  but — "  communicated" 
the  Herald  article,  and  so  dealt  a  treacherous  blow  at  his 
old  friend  and  Parliamentary  leader — a  blow  which  had 
no  doubt  contributed  to  the  situation  culminating  in 
Mr.  Ferrier's  tragic  death. 

Marsham,  very  pale,  sprang  up  at  once,  denied  the 
charge,  and  fiercely  attacked  the  man  who  had  made  it. 
But  there  was  something  so  venomous  in  the  manner  of 
his  denial,  so  undignified  in  the  personalities  with  which 
it  was  accompanied,  that  the  meeting  suddenly  took 
offence.  The  attack,  instead  of  dying  down,  was  renew- 
ed. Speaker  after  speaker  got  up  and  heckled  the 

464 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorij 

candidate.  Was  Mr.  Marsham  aware  that  the  editor  of 
the  Herald  had  been  staying  at  Tallyn  two  days  before 
the  article  appeared  ?  Was  he  also  aware  that  his  name 
had  been  freely  mentioned,  in  the  Herald  office,  in  con- 
nection with  the  article? 

Marsham  in  vain  endeavored  to  regain  sang-froid  and 
composure  under  these  attacks.  He  haughtily  repeated 
his  denial,  and  refused  to  answer  any  more  questions 
on  the  subject. 

The  local  Tory  paper  rushed  into  the  fray,  and  had 
presently  collected  a  good  deal  of  what  it  was  pleased 
to  call  evidence  on  the  matter,  mainly  gathered  from 
London  reporters.  The  matter  began  to  look  serious. 
Marsham  appealed  to  Barrington  to  contradict  the 
rumor  publicly,  as  "absurd  and  untrue."  But,  unfortu- 
nately, Barrington,  who  was  a  man  of  quick  and  gusty 
temper,  had  been  nettled  by  an  incautious  expression  of 
Marsham's  with  regard  to  the  famous  article  in  his 
Dunscombe  speech — "  if  I  had  had  any  intention  what- 
ever of  dealing  a  dishonorable  blow  at  my  old  friend  and 
leader,  I  could  have  done  it  a  good  deal  more  effect- 
ively, I  can  assure  you;  I  should  not  have  put  what 
I  had  to  say  in  a  form  so  confused  and  contradictory." 

This — together  with  the  general  denial — happened  to 
reach  Barrington,  and  it  rankled.  When,  therefore, 
Marsham  appealed  to  him,  he  brusquely  replied: 

"DEAR  MR.  MARSHAM, — You  know  best  what  share  you  had 
in  the  Herald  article.  You  certainly  did  not  write  it.  But 
to  my  mind  it  very  faithfully  reproduced  the  gist  of  our  con- 
versation on  a  memorable  evening.  And,  moreover,  I  believe 
and  still  believe  that  you  intended  the  reproduction.  Be- 
lieve me,  Yours  faithfully,  ERNEST  BARRINGTON." 

To  this  Marsham  returned  a  stiff  answer,  giving  his 

465 


The   Testing    of   Diana   Mallorg 

own  account  of  what  had  taken  place,  and  regretting 
that  even  a  keen  journalist  should  have  thought  it  con- 
sistent with  his  honor  to  make  such  injurious  and  unfair 
use  of  "my  honest  attempt  to  play  the  peacemaker" 
between  the  different  factions  of  the  party. 

To  this  letter  Harrington  made  no  reply.  Marsham, 
sore  and  weary,  yet  strung  by  now  to  an  obstinacy  and 
a  fighting  passion  which  gave  a  new  and  remarkable 
energy  to  his  personality,  threw  himself  fresh  into  a 
hopeless  battle.  For  a  time,  indeed,  the  tide  appeared  to 
turn.  He  had  been  through  two  Parliaments  a  popular 
and  successful  member;  less  popular,  no  doubt,  in  the 
second  than  in  the  first,  as  the  selfish  and  bitter  strains 
in  his  character  became  more  apparent.  Still  he  had 
always  commanded  a  strong  personal  following,  espe- 
cially among  the  younger  men  of  the  towns  and  villages, 
who  admired  his  lithe  and  handsome  presence,  and  ap- 
preciated his  reputation  as  a  sportsman  and  volunteer. 
Lady  Lucy's  subscriptions,  too,  were  an  element  in  the 
matter  not  to  be  despised. . 

A  rally  began  in  the  Liberal  host,  which  had  felt  itself 
already  beaten.  Marsham's  meetings  improved,  the 
Herald  article  was  apparently  forgotten. 

The  anxiety  now  lay  chiefly  in  the  mining  villages, 
where  nothing  seemed  to  affect  the  hostile  attitude  of  the 
inhabitants.  A  long  series  of  causes  had  led  up  to  it,  to 
be  summed  up  perhaps  in  one — the  harsh  and  domineer- 
ing temper  of  the  man  who  had  for  years  managed  the 
three  Tallyn  collieries,  and  who  held  Lady  Lucy  and  her 
co-shareholders  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand.  Lady  Lucy, 
whose  curious  obstinacy  had  been  roused,  would  not  dis- 
miss him,  and  nothing  less  than  his  summary  dismissal 
would  have  appeased  the  dull  hatred  of  six  hundred  miners. 

466 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallorg 

Marsham  had  indeed  attempted  to  put  through  a  num- 
ber of  minor  reforms,  but  the  effect  on  the  temper  of  the 
district  had  been,  in  the  end,  little  or  nothing.  The 
colliers,  who  had  once  fervently  supported  him,  thought 
of  him  now,  either  as  a  fine  gentleman  profiting  pecuni- 
arily by  the  ill  deeds  of  a  tyrant,  or  as  sheltering  behind 
his  mother's  skirts;  the  Socialist  Vicar  of  Beechcote 
thundered  against  him;  and  for  some  time  every  meeting 
of  his  in  the  colliery  villages  was  broken  up.  But  in  the 
more  hopeful  days  of  the  last  week,  when  the  canvassing 
returns,  together  with  Marsham's  astonishing  energy 
and  brilliant  speaking,  had  revived  the  failing  heart  of 
the  party,  it  was  resolved  to  hold  a  final  meeting,  on  the 
night  before  the  poll,  at  Hartingfield-on- the- Wold,  the 
largest  of  the  mining  villages. 

Marsham  left  Dunscombe  for  Hartingfield  about  six 
o'clock  on  an  August  evening,  driving  the  coach,  with  its 
superb  team  of  horses,  which  had  become  by  now  so 
familiar  an  object  in  the  division.  He  was  to  return  in 
time  to  make  the  final  speech  in  the  concluding  Liberal 
meeting  of  the  campaign,  which  was  to  be  held  that 
night,  with  the  help  of  some  half-dozen  other  members 
of  Parliament,  in  the  Dunscombe  Corn  Exchange. 

A  body  of  his  supporters,  gathered  in  the  market- 
place, cheered  him  madly  as  the  coach  set  off.  Marsham 
stopped  the  horses  for  a  minute  outside  the  office  of  the 
local  paper.  The  weekly  issue  came  out  that  afternoon. 
It  was  handed  up  to  him,  and  the  coach  rattled  on. 

McEwart,  who  was  sitting  beside  him,  opened  it,  and 
presently  gave  a  low  involuntary  whistle  of  dismay. 
Marsham  looked  round. 

"What's  the  matter?" 

467 


The  Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

McEwart  would  have  gladly  flung  the  paper  away. 
But  looking  round  him  he  saw  that  several  other  persons 
on  the  top  of  the  coach  had  copies,  and  that  whispering 
consternation  had  begun. 

He  saw  nothing  for  it  but  to  hand  the  paper  to 
Marsham.  "This  is  playing  it  pretty  low  down!"  he 
said,  pointing  to  an  item  in  large  letters  on  the  first  page, 
i  Marsham  handed  the  reins  to  the  groom  beside  him 
and  took  the  paper.  He  saw,  printed  in  full,  Barring- 
ton's  curt  letter  to  himself  on  the  subject  of  the  Herald 
article,  and  below  it  the  jubilant  and  scathing  comments 
of  the  Tory  editor. 

He  read  both  carefully,  and  gave  the  paper  back  to 
McEwart.  "That  decides  the  election,"  he  said,  calmly. 
Me E wart's  face  assented. 

Marsham,  however,  never  showed  greater  pluck  than 
at  the  Hartingfield  meeting.  It  was  a  rowdy  and  dis- 
graceful business,  in  which  from  beginning  to  end  he 
scarcely  got  a  hearing  for  more  than  three  sentences  at 
a  time.  A  shouting  mob  of  angry  men,  animated  by 
passions  much  more  than  political,  held  him  at  bay. 
But  on  this  occasion  he  never  once  lost  his  temper;  he 
caught  the  questions  and  insults  hurled  at  him,  and 
threw  them  back  with  unfailing  skill;  and  every  now 
and  then,  at  some  lull  in  the  storm,  he  made  himself 
heard,  and  to  good  purpose.  His  courage  and  coolness 
propitiated  some  and  exasperated  others. 

A  group  of  very  rough  fellows  pursued  him,  shouting 
and  yelling,  as  he  left  the  school -room  where  the  meeting 
was  held. 

"Take  care!"  said  McEwart,  hurrying  him  along. 
"They  are  beginning  with  stones,  and  I  see  no  police  about." 

468 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallorg 

The  little  party  of  visitors  made  for  the  coach,  pro- 
tected by  some  of  the  villagers.  But  in  the  dusk  the 
stones  came  flying  fast  and  freely.  Just  as  Marsham 
was  climbing  into  his  seat  he  was  struck.  McEwart  saw 
him  waver,  and  heard  a  muttered  exclamation. 

"You're  hurt!"  he  said,  supporting  him.  "Let  the 
groom  drive." 

Marsham  pushed  him  away. 

"  It's  nothing."  He  gathered  up  the  reins,  the  grooms 
who  had  been  holding  the  horses'  heads  clambered  into 
their  places,  a  touch  of  the  whip,  and  the  coach 
was  off,  almost  at  a  gallop,  pursued  by  a  shower  of 
missiles. 

After  a  mile  at  full  speed  Marsham  pulled  in  the 
horses,  and  handed  the  reins  to  the  groom.  As  he  did  so 
a  low  groan  escaped  him. 

•"You  are  hurt!"  exclaimed  McEwart.  "Where  did 
they  hit  you?" 

Marsham  shook  his  head. 

"Better  not  talk,"  he  said,  in  a  whisper.  "Drive 
home." 

An  hour  afterward,  it  was  announced  to  the  crowded 
gathering  in  the  Dunscombe  Corn  Exchange  that  Mr. 
Marsham  had  been  hurt  by  a  stone  at  Hartingfield,  and 
could  not  address  the  meeting.  The  message  was  received 
with  derision  rather  than  sympathy.  It  was  universally 
believed  that  the  injury  was  a  mere  excuse,  and  that  the 
publication  of  that  most  damning  letter,  on  the  very  eve 
of  the  poll,  was  the  sole  and  only  cause  why  the  Junior 
Lord  of  the  Treasury  failed  on  this  occasion  to  meet  the 
serried  rows  of  his  excited  countrymen,  waiting  for  him 
in  the  packed  and  stifling  hall. 

It  was  the  Vicar  who  took  the  news  to  Beechcote. 

469 


The  Testing    of   Diana   Mallorij 

As  in  the  case  of  Diana  herself,  the  misfortune  of  the 
enemy  instantly  transformed  a  roaring  lion  into  a  suck- 
ing dove.  Some  instinct  told  him  that  she  must  hear 
it  gently.  He  therefore  invented  an  errand,  saw  Muriel 
Col  wood,  and  left  the  tale  with  her — both  of  the  blow  and 
the  letter. 

V  Muriel,  trembling  inwardly,  broke  it  as  lightly  and 
casually  as  she  could.  An  injury  to  the  spine — so  it  was 
reported.  No  doubt  rest  and  treatment  would  soon  amend 
it.  A  London  surgeon  had  been  sent  for.  Meanwhile 
the  election  was  said  to  be  lost.  Muriel  reluctantly  pro- 
duced the  letter  in  the  West  Brookshire  Gazette,  knowing 
that  in  the  natural  course  of  things  Diana  must  see  it 
on  the  morrow. 

Diana  sat  bowed  over  the  letter  and  the  news,  and 
presently  lifted  up  a  white  face,  kissed  Muriel,  who  was 
hovering  round  her,  and  begged  to  be  left  alone. 

She  went  to  her  room.  The  windows  were  wide  open 
to  the  woods,  and  the  golden  August  moon  shone  above 
the  down  in  its  bare  full  majesty.  Most  of  the  night 
she  sat  crouched  beside  the  window,  her  head  resting  on 
the  ledge.  Her  whole  nature  hungered — and  hungered 
—for  Oliver.  As  she  lifted  her  eyes,  she  saw  the  little 
dim  path  on  the  hill-side;  she  felt  his  arms  round  about 
her,  his  warm  life  against  hers.  Nothing  that  he  had 
done,  nothing  that  he  could  do,  had  torn  him,  or  would 
2ver  tear  him,  from  her  heart.  And  now  he  was  wounded 
—defeated — perhaps  disgraced;  and  she  could  not  help 
him,  could  not  comfort  him. 

She  supposed  Alicia  Drake  was  with  him.  For  the 
first  time  a  torment  of  fierce  jealousy  ran  through  her 
nature,  like  fire  through  a  forest  glade,  burning  up  its 
sweetness, 

470 


CHAPTER  XXI 

WHAT  time  is  the  carriage  ordered  for  Mr.  Nixon  ?" 
asked  Marsham  of  his  servant. 

"  Her  ladyship,  sir,  told  me  to  tell  the  stables  four- 
twenty  at  Dunscombe." 

"Let  me  hear  directly  the  carriage  arrives.  And, 
Richard,  go  and  see  if  the  Dunscombe  paper  is  come, 
and  bring  it  up." 

The  footman  disappeared.  As  soon  as  the  door  was 
shut  Marsham  sank  back  into  his  cushions  with  a  stifled 
groan.  He  was  lying  on  a  sofa  in  his  own  sitting-room. 
A  fire  burned  in  the  grate,  and  Marsham's  limbs  were 
covered  with  a  rug.  Yet  it  was  only  the  first  week  of 
September,  and  the  afternoon  was  warm  and  sunny. 
The  neuralgic  pain,  however,  from  which  he  had  suffered 
day  and  night  since  the  attack  upon  him  made  him 
susceptible  to  the  slightest  breath  of  chill. 

The  footman  returned  with  the  newspaper. 

" Is  her  ladyship  at  home?" 

"  I  think  not,  sir.  I  saw  her  ladyship  go  out  a  little 
while  ago  with  Miss  Drake.  Is  there  anything  else  I  can 
get  for  you?" 

"Make  up  the  fire,  please.  Put  the  cigarettes  here, 
and  don't  come  till  I  ring." 

Marsham,  left  alone,  lit  a  cigarette,  and  fell  hungrily 
upon  the  paper,  his  forehead  and  lips  still  drawn  with 
pain.  The  paper  contained  an  account  of  the  stone- 


The  Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

throwing  at  Hartingfield,  and  of  the  injury  to  himself;  a 
full  record  of  the  last  five  or  six  days  of  the  election,  and 
of  the  proceedings  at  the  declaration  of  the  poll ;  a  report, 
moreover,  of  the  "  chivalrous  and  sympathetic  references  " 
made  by  the  newly  elected  Conservative  member  to  the 
"dastardly  attack"  upon  his  rival,  which  the  "whole  of 
West  Brookshire  condemns  and  deplores." 

The  leading  article  "condemned"  and  "deplored,"  at 
considerable  length  and  in  good  set  terms,  through  two 
paragraphs.  In  the  third  it  "could  not  disguise — from 
itself  or  its  readeis" — that  Mr.  Marsham's  defeat  by  so 
large  a  majority  had  been  a  strong  probability  from  the 
first,  and  had  been  made  a  certainty  by  the  appearance 
on  the  eve  of  the  poll  of  "  the  Barrington  letter."  "  No 
doubt,  some  day,  Mr.  Marsham  will  give  his  old  friends 
and  former  constituents  in  this  division  the  explanations 
in  regard  to  this  letter — taken  in  connection  with  his  own 
repeated  statements  at  meetings  and  in  the  press — which 
his  personal  honor  and  their  long  fidelity  seem  to 
demand.  Meanwhile  we  can  only  express  to  our  old 
member  our  best  wishes  both  for  his  speedy  recovery 
from  the  effects  of  a  cowardly  and  disgraceful  attack, 
and  for  the  restoration  of  a  political  position  which 
only  a  few  months  ago  seemed  so  strong  and  so  full 
of  promise." 

Marsham  put  down  the  paper.  He  could  see  the 
whipper-snapper  of  an  editor  writing  the  lines,  with  a 
wary  eye  both  to  the  past  and  future  of  the  Marsham 
influence  in  the  division.  The  self-made,  shrewd  little 
man  had  been  Oliver's  political  slave  and  henchman 
through  two  Parliaments;  and  he  had  no  doubt  reflected 
that  neither  the  Tallyn  estates,  nor  the  Marsham  wealth 
had  been  wiped  out  by  the  hostile  majority  of  last 

472 


The    Testing    of  Diana  Mallorg 

Saturday.  At  the  same  time,  the  state  of  feeling  in  the 
division  was  too  strong;  the  paper  which  depended  en- 
tirely on  local  support  could  not  risk  its  very  existence 
by  countering  it. 

Marsham's  keen  brain  spared  him  nothing.  His  anal- 
ysis of  his  own  situation,  made  at  leisure  during  the 
week  which  had  elapsed  since  the  election,  had  been  as 
pitiless  and  as  acute  as  that  of  any  opponent  could  have 
been.  He  knew  exactly  what  he  had  lost,  and  why. 

A  majority  of  twelve  hundred  against  him,  in  a  con- 
stituency where,  up  to  the  dissolution,  he  had  commanded 
a  majority — for  him — of  fifteen  hundred.  And  that  at 
a  general  election,  when  his  party  was  sweeping  the 
country ! 

He  had,  of  course,  resigned  his  office,  and  had  received 
a  few  civil  and  sympathetic  words  from  the  Premier — 
words  which  but  for  his  physical  injury,  so  the  recipient 
of  them  suspected,  might  have  been  a  good  deal  less 
civil  and  less  sympathetic.  No  effort  had  been  made 
to  delay  the  decision.  For  a  Cabinet  Minister,  defeated 
at  a  bye-election,  a  seat  must  be  found.  For  a  Junior 
Lord  and  a  Second  Whip  nobody  will  put  themselves 
out. 

He  was,  therefore,  out  of  Parliament  and  out  of  office; 
estranged  from  multitudes  of  old  friends;  his  name 
besmirched  by  some  of  the  most  damaging  accusa- 
tions that  can  be  brought  against  a  man's  heart  and 
honor. 

He  moved  irritably  among  his  cushions,  trying  to  ar- 
range them  more  comfortably.  This  infernal  pain!  It 
was  to  be  hoped  Nixon  would  be  able  to  do  more  for  it 
than  that  ass,  the  Dunscombe  doctor.  Marsham  thought, 
with  resentment,  of  all  his  futile  drugs  and  expedients. 

31  473 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

According  to  the  Dunscombe  man,  the  stone  had  done  no 
vital  injury,  but  had  badly  bruised  one  of  the  lower 
vertebrae,  and  jarred  the  nerves  of  the  spine  generally. 
Local  rest,  various  applications,  and  nerve  -  soothing 
drugs — all  these  had  been  freely  used,  and  with  no  result. 
The  pain  had  been  steadily  growing  worse,  and  in  the 
last  twenty-four  hours  certain  symptoms  had  appeared, 
which,  when  he  first  noticed  them,  had  roused  in  Mar- 
sham  a  gust  of  secret  terror;  and  Nixon,  a  famous  spe- 
cialist in  nerve  and  spinal  disease,  had  been  summoned 
forthwith. 

To  distract  his  thoughts,  Marsham  took  up  the  paper 
again. 

What  was  wrong  with  the  light?  He  looked  at  the 
clock,  and  read  it  with  some  difficulty.  Close  on  four 
only,  and  the  September  sun  was  shining  brightly  outside. 
It  was  his  eyes,  he  supposed,  that  were  not  quite  normal. 
Very  likely.  A  nervous  shock  must,  of  course,  show 
itself  in  a  variety  of  ways.  At  any  rate,  he  found  read- 
ing difficult,  and  the  paper  slid  away. 

The  pain,  however,  would  not  let  him  doze.  He 
looked  helplessly  round  the  room,  feeling  depressed  and 
wretched.  Why  were  his  mother  and  Alicia  out  so  long  ? 
They  neglected  and  forgot  him.  Yet  he  could  not  but 
remember  that  they  had  both  devoted  themselves  to  him 
in  the  morning,  had  read  to  him  and  written  for  him, 
and  he  had  not  been  a  very  grateful  patient.  He  re- 
called, with  bitterness,  the  look  of  smiling  relief  with 
which  Alicia  had  sprung  up  at  the  sound  of  the  luncheon- 
bell,  dropping  the  book  from  which  she  had  been  reading 
aloud,  and  the  little  song  he  had  heard  her  humming  in 
the  corridor  as  she  passed  his  door  on  her  way  down- 
stairs. 

474 


The   Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

She  was  in  no  pain  physical  or  mental,  and  she  had 
probably  no  conception  of  what  he  had  endured  these  six 
days  and  nights.  But  one  would  have  thought  that  mere 
instinctive  sympathy  with  the  man  to  whom  she  was 
secretly  engaged. 

For  they  were  secretly  engaged.  It  was  during  one 
of  their  early  drives,  in  the  canvassing  of  the  first 
election,  that  he  had  lost  his  head  one  June  afternoon,  as 
they  found  themselves  alone,  crossing  a  beech  wood  on 
one  of  the  private  roads  of  the  Tallyn  estate;  the  groom 
having  been  despatched  on  a  message  to  a  farm-house. 
AUcia  was  in  her  most  daring  and  provocative  mood, 
tormenting  and  flattering  him  by  turns;  the  reflections 
from  her  rose-colored  parasol  dappling  her  pale  skin 
with  warm  color;  her  beautiful  ungloved  hands  and 
arms,  bare  to  the  elbow,  teasing  the  senses  of  the  man 
beside  her.  Suddenly  he  had  thrown  his  arm  round  her, 
and  crushed  her  to  him,  kissing  the  smooth  cool  face  and 
the  dazzling  hair.  And  she  had  nestled  up  to  him  and 
laughed — not  the  least  abashed  or  astonished;  so  that 
even  then,  through  his  excitement,  there  had  struck  a 
renewed  and  sharp  speculation  as  to  her  twenty-four 
hours'  engagement  to  the  Curate,  in  the  spring  of  the 
year;  as  to  the  privileges  she  must  have  allowed  him; 
and  no  doubt  to  others  before  him. 

At  that  time,  it  was  tacitly  understood  between  them 
that  no  engagement  could  be  announced.  Alicia  was 
well  aware  that  Brookshire  was  looking  on;  that  Brook- 
shire  was  on  the  side  of  Diana  Mallory,  the  forsaken, 
and  was  not  at  all  inclined  to  forgive  either  the  deserting 
lover  or  the  supplanting  damsel;  so  that  while  she  was 
not  loath  to  sting  and  mystify  Brookshire  by  whatever 
small  signs  of  her  power  over  Oliver  Marsham  she  could 

475 


The  Testing    of   Diana    Mallorg 

devise;  though  she  queened  it  beside  him  on  his  coach, 
and  took  charge  with  Lady  Lucy  of  his  army  of  women 
canvassers;  though  she  faced  the  mob  with  him  at  Hart- 
ingfield,  on  the  occasion  of  the  first  disturbance  there 
in  June,  and  had  stood  beside  him,  vindictively  trium- 
phant on  the  day  of  his  first  hard -won  victory,  she 
would  wear  no  ring,  and  she  baffled  all  inquiries,  whether 
of  her  relations  or  her  girl  friends.  Her  friendship  with 
her  cousin  Oliver  was  nobody's  concern  but  her  own,  she 
declared,  and  all  they  both  wanted  was  to  be  let  alone. 
Meanwhile  she  had  been  shaken  and  a  little  frightened 
by  the  hostile  feeling  shown  toward  her,  no  less  than 
Oliver,  in  the  first  election.  She  had  taken  no  part  in 
the  second,  although  she  had  been  staying  at  Tallyn  all 
through  it,  and  was  present  when  Oliver  was  brought  in, 
halt  tainting  and  agonized  with  pain,  after  the  Harting- 
field  riot. 

Oliver,  now  lying  with  closed  eyes  on  his  sofa,  lived 
again  through  the  sensations  and  impressions  of  that  first 
hour:  the  pain — the  arrival  of  the  doctor — the  injection 
of  morphia — the  blessed  relief  stealing  through  his  being 
— and  then  Alicia's  face  beside  him.  Delivered  from  the 
obsession  of  intolerable  anguish,  he  had  been  free  to 
notice  with  a  kind  of  exultation  the  tears  in  the  girl's 
eyes,  her  pale  tremor  and  silence.  Never  yet  had  Alicia 
wept  for  him  or  anything  that  concerned  him.  Never, 
indeed,  had  he  seen  her  weep  in  his  whole  life  before. 
He  triumphed  in  her  tears. 

Since  then,  however,  their  whole  relation  had  insen- 
sibly and  radically  changed;  their  positions  toward  each 
other  were  reversed.  Till  the  day  of  his  injury  and  his 
defeat,  Marsham  had  been  in  truth  the  wooed  and  Alicia 

476 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

the  wooer.  Now  it  seemed  to  him  as  though,  through 
his  physical  pain,  he  were  all  the  time  clinging  to  some- 
thing that  shrank  away  and  resisted  him — something 
that  would  ultimately  elude  and  escape  him. 

He  knew  well  that  Alicia  liked  sickness  and  melan- 
choly no  more  than  he  did;  and  he  was  constantly  torn 
between  a  desire  to  keep  her  near  him  and  a  perception 
that  to  tie  her  to  his  sick-room  was,  in  fact,  the  worst 
of  policies. 

Persistently,  in  the  silence  of  the  hot  room,  there 
rang  through  his  brain  the  questions:  "  Do  I  really  care 
whether  she  stays  or  goes? — do  I  love  her? — shall  I 
ever  marry  her?"  Questions  that  were  immediately 
answered,  it  seemed,  by  the  rise  of  a  wave  of  desolate 
and  desperate  feeling.  He  was  maimed  and  ruined; 
life  had  broken  under  his  feet.  What  if  also  he  were 
done  forever  with  love  and  marriage  ? 

There  were  still  some  traces  in  his  veins  of  the  seda- 
tive drug  which  had  given  him  a  few  hours'  sleep  during 
the  night.  Under  its  influence  a  feverish  dreaminess 
overtook  him,  alive  with  fancies  and  images.  Ferrier 
and  Diana  were  among  the  phantoms  that  peopled  the 
room.  He  saw  Ferrier  come  in,  stoop  over  the  news- 
paper on  the  floor,  raise  it,  and  walk  toward  the  fire 
with  it.  The  figure  stood  with  its  back  to  him;  then 
suddenly  it  turned,  and  Marsham  saw  the  well-known 
face,  intent,  kindly,  a  little  frowning,  as  though  in 
thought,  but  showing  no  consciousness  of  his,  Oliver's, 
presence  or  plight.  He  himself  wished  to  speak,  but 
was  only  aware  of  useless  effort  and  some  intangible 
hinderance.  Then  Ferrier  moved  on  toward  a  writing- 
table  with  drawers  that  stood  beyond  the  fireplace. 
He  stooped,  and  touched  a  handle.  " No!"  cried  Oliver, 

477 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

triolently — "no!"  He  woke  with  shock  and  distress,  his 
pulse  racing.  But  the  feverish  state  began  again,  and 
dreams  with  it — of  the  House  of  Commons,  the  election, 
the  faces  in  the  Hartingfield  crowd.  Diana  was  among 
the  crowd — looking  on — vaguely  beautiful  and  remote. 
Yet  as  he  perceived  her  a  rush  of  cool  air  struck  on  his 
temples,  he  seemed  to  be  walking  down  a  garden, 
there  was  a  scent  of  limes  and  roses. 

"Oliver!"  said  his  mother's  voice  beside  him — "dear 
Oliver!" 

He  roused  himself  to  find  Lady  Lucy  bending  over  him. 
The  pale  dismay  in  her  face  excited  and  irritated  him. 

He  turned  away  from  her. 

"Is  Nixon  come?" 

"  Dearest,  he  has  just  arrived.  Will  you  see  him  at 
once?" 

"Of  course!"  he  said,  angrily.  "Why  doesn't  Rich- 
ard do  as  he's  told?" 

He  raised  himself  into  a  sitting  posture,  while  Lady 
Lucy  went  to  the  door.  The  local  doctor  entered — a 
stranger  behind  him.  Lady  Lucy  left  her  son  and  the 
great  surgeon  together. 

Nearly  an  hour  later,  Mr.  Nixon,  waylaid  by  Lady 
Lucy,  was  doing  his  best  to  compromise,  as  doctors 
must,  between  consideration  for  the  mother  and  truth  as 
to  the  son.  There  was,  he  hoped,  no  irreparable  injury. 
But  the  case  would  be  long,  painful,  trying  to  everybody 
concerned.  Owing  to  the  mysterious  nerve-sympathies 
of  the  body,  the  sight  was  already  affected  and  would  be 
more  so.  Complete  rest,  certain  mechanical  applica- 
tions, certain  drugs — he  ran  through  his  recommenda- 
tions. 

478 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

"Avoid  morphia,  I  implore  you,"  he  said,  earnestly, 
"  if  you  possibly  can.  Here  a  man's  friends  can  be  of 
great  help  to  him.  Cheer  him  and  distract  him  in  every 
way  you  can.  I  think  we  shall  be  able  to  keep  the  pain 
within  bounds." 

Lady  Lucy  looked  piteously  at  the  speaker. 

"And  how  long?"  she  said,  trembling. 

Mr.  Nixon  hesitated.  "I  am  afraid  I  can  hardly 
answer  that.  The  blow  was  a  most  unfortunate  one. 
It  might  have  done  a  worse  injury.  Your  son  might  be 
now  a  paralyzed  invalid  for  life.  But  the  case  is  very 
serious,  nor  is  it  possible  yet  to  say  what  all  the  conse- 
quences of  the  injury  may  be.  But  keep  your  own 
courage  up — and  his.  The  better  his  general  state,  the 
more  chance  he  has." 

A  few  minutes  more,  and  the  brougham  had  carried 
him  away.  Lady  Lucy,  looking  after  it  from  the  window 
of  her  sitting-room,  knew  that  for  her  at  last  what  she 
had  been  accustomed  to  describe  every  Sunday  as  "the 
sorrows  of  this  transitory  life  "  had  begun.  Till  now  they 
had  been  as  veiled  shapes  in  a  misty  distance.  She  had 
accepted  them  with  religious  submission,  as  applying  to 
others.  Her  mind,  resentful  and  astonished,  must  now 
admit  them  —  pale  messengers  of  powers  unseen  and 
pitiless! — to  its  own  daily  experience;  must  look  unpro- 
tected, unscreened,  into  their  stern  faces. 

"John! — John!"  cried  the  inner  voice  of  agonized 
regret.  And  then:  "My  boy! — my  boy!" 

"What  did  he  say?"  asked  Alicia's  voice,  beside  her. 

The  sound  —  the  arm  thrown  round  her  —  were  not 
very  welcome  to  Lady  Lucy.  Her  nature,  imperious  and 
jealously  independent,  under  all  her  sweetness  of  manner, 

479 


The  Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

set  itself  against  pity,  especially  from  her  juniors.  She 
composed  herself  at  once. 

"He  does  not  give  a  good  account,"  she  said,  with- 
drawing herself  gently  but  decidedly.  "It  may  take  a 
long  time  before  Oliver  is  quite  himself  again." 

Alicia  persisted  in  a  few  questions,  extracting  all  the 
information  she  could.  Then  Lady  Lucy  sat  down  at 
her  writing -table  and  began  to  arrange  some  letters. 
Alicia's  presence  annoyed  her.  The  truth  was  that  she 
was  not  as  fond  of  Alicia  as  she  had  once  been.  These 
misfortunes,  huddling  one  on  another,  instead  of  drawing 
them  together,  had  in  various  and  subtle  ways  produced 
a  secret  estrangement.  To  neither  the  older  nor  the 
younger  woman  could  the  familiar  metaphor  have  been 
applied  which  compares  the  effects  of  sorrow  or  sym- 
pathy on  fine  character  to  the  bruising  of  fragrant  herbs. 
Ferrier's  death,  sorely  and  bitterly  lamented  though  it 
was,  had  not  made  Lady  Lucy  more  lovable.  Oliver's 
misfortune  had  not — toward  Lady  Lucy,  at  any  rate — 
liberated  in  Alicia  those  hidden  tendernesses  that  may 
sometimes  transmute  and  glorify  natures  apparently 
careless  or  stubborn,  brought  eye  to  eye  with  pain.  Lady 
Lucy  also  resented  her  too  long  exclusion  from  Alicia's 
confidence.  Like  all  the  rest  of  the  world,  she  believed 
there  was  an  understanding  between  Oliver  and  Alicia. 
Of  course,  there  were  reasons  for  not  making  anything  of 
the  sort  public  at  present.  But  a  mother,  she  thought, 
ought  to  have  been  told. 

"Does  Mr.  Nixon  recommend  that  Oliver  should  go 
abroad  for  the  winter?"  asked  Alicia,  after  a  pause.  She 
was  sitting  on  the  arm  of  a  chair,  her  slender  feet  hang- 
ing, and  the  combination  of  her  blue  linen  dress  with  the 
fiery  gold  of  her  hair  reminded  Lady  Lucy  of  the  evening 

480 


The    Testing    of   Diana    Mallorg 

in  the  Eaton  Square  drawing-room,  when  she  had  first 
entertained  the  idea  that  Alicia  and  Oliver  might  marry. 
Oliver,  standing  erect  in  front  of  the  fire  looking  down 
upon  Alicia  in  her  blue  tulle — his  young  vigor  and  dis- 
tinction— the  carriage  of  his  handsome  head — was  she 
never  to  see  that  sight  again — never?  Her  heart  flut- 
tered and  sank;  the  prison  of  life  contracted  round  her. 
She  answered,  rather  shortly. 

"  He  made  no  plan  of  the  kind.  Travelling,  in  fact,  is 
absolutely  forbidden  for  the  present." 

"Poor  Oliver!"  said  Alicia,  gently,  her  eyes  on  the 
ground.  "How  horrid  it  is  that  I  have  to  go  away!" 

"You!  When?"  Lady  Lucy  turned  sharply  to  look 
at  the  speaker. 

"Oh!  not  till  Saturday,"  said  Alicia,  hastily;  "and 
of  course  I  shall  come  back  again  —  if  you  want  me." 
She  looked  up  with  a  smile. 

"Oliver  will  certainly  want  you;  I  don't  know  whom 
he  could  —  possibly  —  want  —  so  much."  Lady  Lucy 
spoke  the  words  with  slow  emphasis. 

"Dear  old  boy! — I  know,"  murmured  Alicia.  "I 
needn't  be  long  away." 

"Why  must  you  go  at  all?  I  am  sure  the  Treshams 
— Lady  Evelyn — would  understand — 

"Oh,  I  promised  so  faithfully!"  pleaded  Alicia,  joining 
her  hands.  "And  then,  you  know,  I  should  be  able  to 
bring  all  sorts  of  gossip  back  to  Oliver  to  amuse  him." 

Lady  Lucy  pressed  her  hand  to  her  eyes  in  a  miser- 
able bewilderment.  "I  suppose  it  will  be  an  immense 
party.  You  told  me,  I  think,  that  Lady  Evelyn  had 
asked  Lord  Philip  Darcy.  I  should  be  glad  if  you  would 
make  her  understand  that  neither  I,  nor  Sir  James  Chide, 
nor  any  other  old  friend  of  Mr.  Ferrier  can  ever  meet 

481 


The    Testing    of   Diana   Mallory 

that  man  on  friendly  terms  again."  She  looked  up,  her 
wrinkled  cheeks  flushed  with  color,  her  aspect  threaten- 
ing and  cold. 

"Of  course!"  said  Alicia,  soothingly.  "Hateful  man! 
I  too  loathe  the  thought  of  meeting  him.  But  you  know 
how  delicate  Evelyn  is,  and  how  she  has  been  depending 
on  me  to  help  her.  Now,  oughtn't  we  to  go  back  to 
Oliver?"  She  rose  from  her  chair. 

"Mr.  Nixon  left  some  directions  to  which  I  must 
attend,"  said  Lady  Lucy,  turning  to  her  desk.  "Will 
you  go  and  read  to  him?" 

Alicia  moved  away,  but  paused  as  she  neared  the 
door. 

"What  did  Mr.  Nixon  say  about  Oliver's  eyes?  He 
has  been  suffering  from  them  dreadfully  to-day." 

"Everything  is  connected.     We  can  only  wait." 

"Are  you — are  you  thinking  of  a  nurse?" 

"No,"  said  Lady  Lucy,  decidedly.  "His  man  Rich- 
ard is  an  excellent  nurse.  I  shall  never  leave  him — and 
you  say" — she  turned  pointedly  to  look  at  Alicia — "you 
say  you  will  come  back?" 

"Of  course! — of  course  I  will  come  back!"  cried  Alicia. 
Then,  stepping  up  briskly  to  Lady  Lucy,  she  stooped  and 
kissed  her.  "And  there  is  you  to  look  after,  too!" 

Lady  Lucy  allowed  the  kiss,  but  made  no  reply  to  the 
remark.  Alicia  departed. 

She  went  slowly  up  the  wide  oak  staircase.  How 
stifling  the  house  was  on  this  delicious  afternoon !  Sud- 
denly, in  the  distance,  she  heard  the  sound  of  guns — 
a  shooting-party,  no  doubt,  in  the  Melford  woods.  Her 
feet  danced  under  her,  and  she  gave  a  sigh  of  longing  for 
the  stubbles  and  the  sunny  fields,  and  the  companionship 

482 


The    Testing    of    Diana  '  Mallory 

of  handsome  men,  of  health  and  vigor  as  flawless  and 
riotous  as  her  own. 

Oliver  was  lying  still,  with  closed  eyes,  when  she  re- 
joined him.  He  made  no  sign  as  she  opened  the  door, 
and  she  sank  down  on  a  stool  beside  him  and  laid  her 
head  against  his  shoulder. 

"Dear  Oliver,  you  must  cheer  up,"  she  said,  softly. 
"  You'll  be  Well  soon — quite  soon — if  you  are  only  pa- 
tient." 

He  made  no  reply. 

"Did  you  like  Mr.  Nixon?"  she  asked,  in  the  same 
caressing  voice,  gently  rubbing  her  cheek  against  his  arm. 

"One  doesn't  exactly  like  one's  executioner,"  he  said, 
hoarsely  and  suddenly,  but  without  opening  his  eyes. 

"Oliver! — dearest!"  She  dropped  a  protesting  kiss 
on  the  sleeve  of  his  coat. 

Silence  for  a  little.  Alicia  felt  as  if  she  could  hardly 
breathe  in  the  hot  room.  Then  Oliver  raised  himself. 

"  I  am  going  blind!" — he  said,  violently.  "And  noth- 
ing can  be  done.  Did  that  man  tell  my  mother  that?" 

"No,  no! — Oliver!"  She  threw  her  arm  round  him, 
hastily  repeating  and  softening  Nixon's  opinion. 

He  sank  back  on  his  cushions,  gloomily  listening — 
without  assent.  Presently  he  shook  his  head. 

"The  stuff  that  doctors  talk  when  they  can  do  no 
good,  and  want  to  get  comfortably  out  of  the  house! 
Alicia!" 

She  bent  forward  startled. 

"Alicia! — are  you  going  to  stick  to  me?" 

His  eyes  held  her. 

"Oliver! — what  a  cruel  question!" 

"  No,  it  is  not  cruel."  He  spoke  with  a  decision  which 
took  no  account  of  her  caresses,  "  I  ought  to  give  you 

483 


The   Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

up — I  know  that  perfectly  well.  But  I  tell  you  frankly 
I  shall  have  no  motive  to  get  well  if  you  leave  me.  I 
think  that  man  told  me  the  truth — I  did  my  best  to 
make  him.  There  is  a  chance  of  my  getting  well — the 
thing  is  not  hopeless.  If  you'll  stand  by  me,  I'll  fight 
through.  Will  you?"  He  looked  at  her  with  a  threat- 
ening and  painful  eagerness. 

"  Of  course  I  will,"  she  said,  promptly. 

"  Then  let  us  tell  my  mother  to-night  that  we  are  en- 
gaged? Mind,  I  am  not  deceiving  you.  I  would  give 
you  up  at  once  if  I  were  hopelessly  ill.  I  am  only  ask- 
ing you  to  bear  a  little  waiting — and  wretchedness — for 
my  sake." 

"I  will  bear  anything.  Only,  dear  Oliver — for  your 
sake — for  mine — wait  a  little  longer!  You  know  what 
horrible  gossip  there's  been!"  She  clung  to  him,  mur- 
muring: "  I  couldn't  bear  that  anybody  should  speak 
or  think  harshly  of  you  now.  It  can  make  no  difference 
to  you  and  me,  but  two  or  three  months  hence  every- 
body would  take  it  so  differently.  You  know  we  said  in 
June — six  months." 

Her  voice  was  coaxing  and  sweet.  He  partly  with- 
drew himself  from  her,  however. 

"  At  least,  you  can  tell  my  mother,"  he  said,  insisting. 
"  Of  course,  she  suspects  it  all." 

"Oh,  but,  dear  Oliver  1" — she  brought  her  face  nearer 
to  his,  and  he  saw  the  tears  in  her  eyes — "one's  own 
mother  ought  to  know  first  of  all.  Mamma  would  be  so 
hurt — she  would  never  forgive  me.  Let  me  pay  this 
horrid  visit — and  then  go  home  and  tell  my  people — if 
you  really,  really  wish  it.  Afterward  of  course,  I  shall 
come  back  to  you — and  Cousin  Lucy  shall  know — and 
at  Christmas — everybody." 

484 


The   Testing   o£    Diana   Mallorg 

"What  visit?  You  are  going  to  Eastham? — to  the 
Tresham's  ?"  It  was  a  cry  of  incredulous  pain. 

"  How  can  I  get  out  of  it,  dear  Oliver  ?  Evelyn  has 
been  so,  ill! — and  she's  been  depending  on  me — and  I 
owe  her  so  much.  You  know  how  good  she  was  to  me 
in  the  Season." 

He  lifted  himself  again  on  his  cushions,  surveying 
her  ironically — his  eyes  sunken  and  weak — his  aspect 
ghastly. 

"Well,  how  long  do  you  mean  to  stay?  Is  Lord 
Philip  going  to  be  there?" 

"What  do  I  care  whether  he  is  or  not!" 

"  You  said  you  were  longing  to  know  him." 

"That  was  before  you  were  ill." 

"  I  don't  see  any  logic  in  that  remark."  He  lay  look- 
ing at  her.  Then  suddenly  he  put  out  an  arm,  pulled 
her  down  to  him  feebly,  and  kissed  her.  But  the  move- 
ment hurt  him.  He  turned  away  with  some  broken 
words — or,  rather,  moans — stifled  against  his  pillows. 

"  Dear,  do  lie  still.     Shall  I  read  to  you?" 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  Don't  stay  with  me.     I  shall  be  better  after  dinner." 

She  rose  obediently,  touched  him  caressingly  with  her 
hand,  drew  a  light  shawl  over  him,  and  stole  away. 

When  she  reached  her  own  room  she  stood  a  moment, 
frowning  and  absorbed,  beside  the  open  window.  Then 
some  one  knocked  at  her  door.  It  was  her  maid,  who 
came  in  carrying  a  large  light  box. 

Alicia  flew  toward  her. 

"From  Cosette!  Heavens  I  Oh,  Benson,  quick!  Put 
it  down.  I'll  help  you." 

The  maid  obeyed,  and  ran  to  the  dressing-table  for 

485 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

scissors.  Cords  and  tapes  were  soon  cut  in  the  hurry  of 
unpacking,  and  from  the  crackling  tissue-paper  there 
emerged  an  evening  gown  of  some  fresh  snowy  stuff, 
delicately  painted  and  embroidered,  which  drew  from  the 
maid  little  shrieks  of  admiration. 

Alicia  looked  at  it  more  critically. 

"The  lace  is  not  good  enough,"  she  said,  twisting  her 
lip,  "and  I  shall  make  her  give  me  some  more  em- 
broidery than  that  on  the  bodice — for  the  money — I  can 
tell  her!  However,  it  is  pretty — much  prettier,  isn't  it,. 
Benson,  than  that  gown  of  Lady  Evelyn's  I  took  it 
from?  She'll  be  jealous!"  The  girl  laughed  trium- 
phantly. "  Well,  now,  look  here,  Benson,  we're  going  on 
Saturday,  and  I  want  to  look  through  my  gowns.  Get 
them  out,  and  I'll  see  if  there's  anything  I  can  send 
home." 

The  maid's  face  fell. 

"  I  packed  some  of  them  this  morning,  miss — in  the 
large  American  trunk.  I  thought  they'd  keep  better 
there  than  anywhere.  It  took  a  lot  of  time." 

"  Oh,  never  mind.  You  can  easily  pack  them  again. 
I  really  must  go  through  them." 

The  maid  unwillingly  obeyed;  and  soon  the  room — 
bed,  sofa,  chairs  —  was  covered  with  costly  gowns, 
for  all  hours  of  the  day  and  night:  walking- dresses,  in 
autumn  stuffs  and  colors,  ready  for  the  moors  and  stub- 
bles; afternoon  frocks  of  an  elaborate  simplicity,  expen- 
sively girlish ;  evening  dresses  in  an  amazing  variety  of 
hue  and  fabric;  with  every  possible  adjunct  in  the  way 
of  flowers,  gloves,  belt,  that  dressmakers  and  customer 
could  desire. 

Alicia  looked  at  it  all  with  glowing  cheeks.  She  re- 
flected that  she  had  really  spent  the  last  check  she  had 

486 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

made  her  father  give  her  to  very  great  advantage.  There 
were  very  few  people  of  her  acquaintance,  girls  or  mar- 
ried women,  who  knew  how  to  get  as  much  out  of  money 
as  she  did. 

In  her  mind  she  ran  over  the  list  of  guests  invited  to 
the  Eastham  party,  as  her  new  friend  Lady  Evelyn  had 
confided  it  to  her.  Nothing  could  be  smarter,  but  the 
competition  among  the  women  would  be  terribly  keen. 
"Of  course,  I  can't  touch  duchesses,"  she  thought, 
laughing  to  herself,  "or  American  millionaires.  But  I 
shall  do!" 

And  her  mind  ran  forward  in  a  dream  of  luxury  and 
delight.  She  saw  herself  sitting  or  strolling  in  vast 
rooms  amid  admiring  groups;  mirrors  reflected  her;  she 
heard  the  rustle  of  her  gowns  on  parquet  or  marble,  the 
merry  sound  of  her  own  laughter;  other  girls  threw  her 
the  incense  of  their  envy  and  imitation;  and  men,  fresh 
and  tanned  from  shooting,  breathing  the  joy  of  physical 
life,  devoted  themselves  to  her  pleasure,  or  encircled  her 
with  homage.  Not  always  chivalrous,  or  delicate,  or 
properly  behaved — these  men  of  her  imagination !  What 
matter?  She  loved  adventures!  And  moving  like  a 
king  among  the  rest,  she  saw  the  thin,  travel-beaten,  ec- 
centric form  of  Lord  Philip — the  hated,  adored,  pursued; 
Society's  idol  and  bugbear  all  in  one;  Lord  Philip,  who 
shunned  and  disliked  women;  on  whom,  nevertheless, 
the  ambitions  and  desires  of  some  of  the  loveliest  women 
in  England  were,  on  that  account  alone,  and  at  this 
moment  of  his  political  triumph,  the  more  intently  and 
the  more  greedily  fixed. 

A  flash  of  excitement  ran  through  her.  In  Lady 
Evelyn's  letter  of  that  morning  there  was  a  mention 
of  Lord  Philip.  "  I  told  him  you  were  to  be  here.  He 

487 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

made  a  note  of  it,  and  I  do  at  last  believe  he  won't  throw 
us  over,  as  he  generally  does." 

She  dressed,  still  in  a  reverie,  speechless  under  her 
maid's  hands.  Then,  as  she  emerged  upon  the  gallery, 
looking  down  upon  the  ugly  hall  of  Tallyn,  she  remem- 
bered that  she  had  promised  to  go  back  after  dinner 
and  read  to  Oliver.  Her  nature  rebelled  in  a  moral  and 
physical  nausea,  and  it  was  all  she  could  do  to  meet 
Lady  Lucy  at  their  solitary  dinner  with  her  usual  good 
temper. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

SIR  JAMES  CHIDE  was  giving  tea  to  a  couple  of 
guests  at  Lytchett  Manor.  It  was  a  Saturday  in 
late  September.  The  beech-trees  visible  through  the 
drawing-room  windows  were  still  untouched  and  heav- 
ily green;  but  their  transformation  was  approaching. 
Soon,  steeped  in  incredible  splendors  of  orange  and  gold, 
they  would  stand  upon  the  leaf-strewn  grass,  waiting 
for  the  night  of  rain  or  the  touch  of  frost  which  should 
at  last  disrobe  them. 

"If  you  imagine,  Miss  Ettie,"  said  Sir  James,  se- 
verely, to  a  young  lady  beside  him,  "  that  I  place  the 
smallest  faith  in  any  of  Bobbie's  remarks  or  protesta- 
tions— " 

The  girl  addressed  smiled  into  his  face,  undaunted. 
She  was  a  small  elfish  creature  with  a  thin  face,  on  the 
slenderest  of  necks.  But  in  her  queer  little  countenance 
a  pair  of  laughing  eyes,  out  of  all  proportion  to  the  rest 
of  her  for  loveliness  and  effect,  gave  her  and  kept  her  the 
attention  of  the  world.  They  lent  distinction — fascina- 
tion even — to  a  character  of  simple  virtues  and  girlish 
innocence. 

Bobbie  lounged  behind  her  chair,  his  arms  on  the 
back  of  it.  He  took  Sir  James's  attack  upon  him  with 
calm.  "  Shall  I  show  him  the  letter  of  my  beastly  chair- 
man?" he  said,  in  the  girl's  ear. 

She  nodded,  and  Bobbie  drew  from  his  breast-pocket 
3»  489 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

a  folded  sheet  of  blue  paper,  and  pompously  handed 
it  to  Sir  James. 

The  letter  was  from  the  chairman  of  a  leading  bank  in 
Berlin — a  man  well  known  in  European  finance.  It  was 
couched  in  very  civil  terms,  and  contained  the  offer  to 
Mr.  Robert  Forbes  of  a  post  in  the  Lindner  bank,  as  an 
English  correspondence  clerk,  at  a  salary  in  marks  which, 
when  translated,  meant  about  .£140  a  year. 

Sir  James  read  it,  and  handed  it  back.  "  Well,  what's 
the  meaning  of  that?" 

"I'm  giving  up  the  Foreign  Office,"  said  Bobbie,  with 
an  engaging  openness  of  manner.  "  It's  not  a  proper 
place  for  a  young  man.  I've  learned  nothing  there  but 
a  game  we  do  with  Blue-Books,  and  things  you  throw 
at  the  ceiling — where  they  stick — I'll  tell  you  about  it 
presently.  Besides,  you  see,  I  must  have  some  money, 
and  it  don't  grow  in  the  Foreign  Office  for  people  like 
me.  So  I  went  to  my  uncle,  Lord  Forestier — " 

"Of  course!"  growled  Sir  James.  "I  thought  we 
should  come  to  the  uncles  before  long.  Miss  Wilson,  I 
desire  to  warn  you  against  marrying  a  young  man  of 
'the  classes.'  They  have  no  morals,  but  they  have 
always  uncles." 

Miss  Wilson's  eyes  shot  laughter  at  her  fiancj.  "  Go 
on,  Bobbie,  and  don't  make  it  too  long!" 

"I  decline  to  be  hustled."  Bobbie's  tone  was  firm, 
though  urbane.  "I  repeat:  I  went  to  my  uncle.  And 
I  said  to  him,  like  the  unemployed:  '  Find  me  work, 
and  none  of  your  d d  charity!'" 

"Which  means,  I  suppose,  that  the  last  time  you 
went  to  him,  you  borrowed  fifty  pounds?"  said  Sir 
James. 

11 1  shouldn't  dream,  sir,  of  betraying  my  uncle's  af- 
490 


The    Testing   of    Diana    Mallorg 

fairs.  On  this  occasion — for  an  uncle — he  behaved  well. 
He  lectured  me  for  twenty-seven  minutes  and  a  half — I 
had  made  up  my  mind  beforehand  not  to  let  it  go  over 
the  half-hour — and  then  he  came  to  business.  After  a 
year's  training  and  probation  in  Berlin  he  thought  he 
could  get  me  a  post  in  his  brother-in-law's  place  in  the 
City.  Awfully  warm  thing,  you  know,"  said  Bobbie, 
complacently;  "worth  a  little  trouble.  So  I  told  him, 
kindly,  I'd  think  of  it.  Ecco!"  He  pointed  to  the 
letter.  "  Of  course,  I  told  my  uncle  I  should  permit  him 
to  continue  my  allowance,  and  in  a  year  I  shall  be  a 
merchant  prince — in  the  egg;  I  shall  be  worth  marrying; 
and  I  shall  allow  Ettie  two  hundred  a  year  for  her 
clothes." 

"And  Lady  Niton?" 

Bobbie  sat  down  abruptly;  the  girl  stared  at  the  carpet. 

"  I  don't  see  the  point  of  your  remark,"  said  Bobbie 
at  last,  with  mildness.  "  When  last  I  had  the  honor  of 
hearing  of  her,  Lady  Niton  was  taking  the  air — or  the 
waters — at  Strathpeffer." 

"As  far  as  I  know,"  remarked  Sir  James,  "she  is 
staying  with  the  Feltons,  five  miles  off,  at  this  moment." 

Bobbie  whistled.  "Close  quarters!"  He  looked  at 
Miss  Ettie  Wilson,  and  she  at  him.  "  May  I  ask  whether, 
as  soon  as  Ettie  and  I  invited  ourselves  for  the  day,  you 
asked  Lady  Niton  fo  come  to  tea?" 

"  Not  at  all.  I  never  play  Providence  unless  I'm  told 
to  do  so.  Only  Miss  Mallory  is  coming  to  tea." 

Bobbie  expressed  pleasure  at  the  prospect;  then  his 
amiable  countenance — the  face  of  an  "  Idle  Apprentice," 
whom  no  god  has  the  heart  to  punish  —  sobered  to  a 
real  concern  as  the  association  of  ideas  led  him  to  in- 
quire what  the  latest  news  might  be  of  Oliver  Marsham. 

491 


The   Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

Sir  James  shook  his  head;  his  look  clouded.  He 
understood  from  Lady  Lucy  that  Oliver  was  no  better; 
the  accounts,  in  fact,  were  very  bad. 

"Did  they  arrest  anybody?"  asked  Bobbie. 

"At  Hartingfield ?  Yes — two  lads.  But  there  was 
not  evidence  enough  to  convict.  They  were  both  re- 
leased, and  the  village  gave  them  an  ovation." 

Bobbie  hesitated. 

"  What  do  you  think  was  the  truth  about  that  article  ?" 

Sir  James  frowned  and  rose. 

"  Miss  Wilson,  come  and  see  my  garden.  If  you  don't 
fall  down  and  worship  the  peaches  on  my  south  wall,  I 
shall  not  pursue  your  acquaintance." 

It  was  a  Saturday  afternoon.  Briefs  were  forgotten. 
The  three  strolled  down  the  garden.  Sir  James,  in  a 
disreputable  shooting-coat  and  cap,  his  hands  deep  in  his 
pockets,  took  the  middle  of  the  path — the  two  lovers 
on  either  side.  Chide  made  himself  delightful  to  them. 
On  that  Italian  journey  of  which  he  constantly  thought, 
Ferrier  had  been  amused  and  cheered  all  through  by 
Bobbie's  nonsense ;  and  the  young  fellow  had  loyally  felt 
his  death — and  shown  it.  Chide's  friendly  eye  would  be 
on  him  and  his  Ettie  henceforward. 

Five  or  ten  minutes  afterward,  a  brougham  drove  up 
to  the  door  of  Lytchett,  and  a  small  lady  emerged.  She 
had  rung  the  bell,  and  was  waiting  on  the  steps,  when  a 
pony-carriage  also  turned  into  the  Lytchett  avenue  and 
drew  near  rapidly. 

A  girl  in  a  shady  hat  was  driving  it. 

"The  very  creature!"  cried  Lady  Niton,  under  her 
breath,  smartly  tapping  her  tiny  boot  with  the  black 
cane  she  carried,  and  referring  apparently  to  some  train 

492 


SIR    JAMES    MADE    HIMSELF    DELIGHTFUL    Tp    THEM 


The   Testing   of    Diana    Mallorg 

of  meditation  in  which  she  had  been  just  engaged.  She 
waved  to  her  own  coachman  to  be  off,  and  stood  await- 
ing Diana. 

"How  do  you  do,  Miss  Mallory?  Are  you  invited? 
I'm  not." 

Diana  descended,  and  they  shook  hands.  They  had 
not  met  since  the  evening  at  Tallyn  when  Diana,  in  her 
fresh  beauty,  had  been  the  gleaming  princess,  and  Lady 
Niton  the  friendly  godmother,  of  so  promising  a  fairy 
tale.  The  old  woman  looked  at  her  curiously,  as  they 
stood  in  the  drawing-room  together,  while  the  footman 
went  off  to  find  Sir  James.  Frail — dark  lines  under  the 
eyes — a  look  as  of  long  endurance — a  smile  that  was  a 
mere  shield  and  concealment  for  the  heart  beneath — alack ! 

And  there  was  no  comfort  to  be  got  out  of  calling 
down  fire  from  heaven  on  the  author  of  this  change, 
since  it  had  fallen  so  abundantly  already! 

"  Sit  down;  you  look  tired,"  said  the  old  lady,  in  her 
piping,  peremptory  voice.  "  Have  you  been  here  all  the 
summer?" 

"  Yes — since  June." 

"Through  the  election?" 

"Yes."  Diana  turned  her  face  away.  Lady  Niton 
could  see  the  extreme  delicacy  to  which  the  profile  had 
fined  down,  the  bluish  or  purple  shadows  here  and  there 
on  the  white  skin.  Something  glittered  in  the  old  wom- 
an's eyes.  She  put  out  a  hand  from  the  queer  flounced 
mantle,  made  out  of  an  ancient  evening  dress,  in  which 
she  was  arrayed,  and  touched  Diana's. 

"You  know — you've  heard — about  those  poor  things 
at  Tallyn?" 

Diana  made  a  quick  movement.  Her  eyes  were  on 
the  speaker. 

493 


The   Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

"How  is  Mr.  Marsham?" 

Lady  Niton  shook  her  head.  She  opened  a  hand-bag 
on  her  wrist,  took  out  a  letter,  and  put  on  her  eye-glasses. 

"  This  is  Lucy — arrived  this  morning.  It  don't  sound 
well.  'Come  when  you  can,  my  dear  Elizabeth — you 
will  be  very  welcome.  But  I  do  not  know  how  I  have 
the  courage  to  ask  you.  We  are  a  depressing  pair, 
Oliver  and  I.  Oliver  has  been  in  almost  constant  pain 
this  last  week.  If  it  goes  on  we  must  try  morphia. 
But  before  that  we  shall  see  another  doctor.  I  dread 
to  think  of  morphia.  Once  begin  it,  and  what  will  be 
the  end  ?  I  sit  here  alone  a  great  deal — thinking.  How 
long  did  that  stone  take  to  throw  ? — a  few  seconds,  per- 
haps ?  And  here  is  my  son — my  poor  son ! — broken  and 
helpless — perhaps  for  life.  We  have  been  trying  a  sec- 
retary to  write  for  him  and  read  to  him,  for  the  blind- 
ness increases,  but  it  has  not  been  a  success.' " 

Diana  rose  abruptly  and  walked  to  the  window,  where 
she  stood,  motionless — looking  out — her  back  turned  to 
Lady  Niton.  Her  companion  glanced  at  her — lifted  her 
eyebrows — hesitated — and  finally  put  the  letter  back 
into  her  pocket.  There  was  an  awkward  silence,  when 
Diana  suddenly  returned  to  Lady  Niton's  side. 

"Where  is  Miss  Drake?"  she  said,  sharply.  "Is  the 
marriage  put  off?" 

"  Marriage !"  Lady  Niton  laughed.  "  Alicia  and  Oli- 
ver ?  H'm.  I  don't  think  we  shall  hear  much  more  of 
that!" 

"I  thought  it  was  settled." 

"  Well  as  soon  as  I  heard  of  the  accident  and  Oliver's 
condition,  I  wondered  to  myself  how  long  that  young 
woman  would  keep  it  up.  I  have  no  doubt  the  situation 
gave  her  a  disturbed  night  or  two,  Alicia  never  can  have 

494 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

had  the  smallest  intention  of  spending  her  life,  or  the 
best  years  of  it,  in  nursing  a  sick  husband.  On  the 
other  hand,  money  is  money.  So  she  went  off  to  the 
Treshams',  to  see  if  there  was  no  third  course — that's 
how  I  read  it." 

"The  Treshams'? — a  visit? — since  the  accident?" 

"  Don't  look  so  astonished,  my  dear.  You  don't  know 
the  Alicias  of  this  world.  But  I  admit  we  should  be  dull 
without  them.  There's  a  girl  at  the  Feltons'  who  has 
just  come  down  from  the  Treshams',  and  I  wouldn't  have 
missed  her  stories  of  Alicia  for  a  great  deal.  She's  been 
setting  her  cap,  it  appears,  at  Lord  Philip.  However" 
(Lady  Niton  chuckled),  "  iliere  she's  met  her  match." 

"But  they  are  engaged?"  said  Diana,  in  bewildered 
interrogation. 

The  little  lady's  laugh  rang  out — shrill  and  cracked — 
like  the  crow  of  a  bantam. 

"She  and  Lord  Philip?     Trust  Lord  Philip!" 

"No,  I  didn't  mean  that!" 

"  She  and  Oliver  ?  I've  no  doubt  Oliver  thinks — or 
thought — they  were.  What  view  he  takes  now,  poor 
fellow,  I'm  sure  I  don't  know.  But  I  don't  somehow 
think  Alicia  will  be  able  to  carry  on  the  game  indefi- 
nitely. Lady  Lucy  is  losing  patience." 

Diana  sat  in  silence.  Lady  Niton  could  not  exactly 
decipher  her.  But  she  guessed  at  a  conflict  between  a 
scrupulous  or  proud  unwillingness  to  discuss  the  matter 
at  all  or  hear  it  discussed,  and  some  motive  deeper  still 
and  more  imperative. 

"  Lady  Lucy  has  been  ill  too  ?"  Diana  inquired  at  last, 
in  the  same  voice  of  constraint. 

"Oh,  very  unwell  indeed.  A  poor,  broken  thing! 
And  there  don't  seem  to  be  anybody  to  look  after  them. 

495 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

Mrs.  Fotheringham  is  about  as  much  good  as  a  broom- 
stick. Every  family  ought  to  keep  a  supply  of  super- 
fluous girls.  They're  like  the  army — useless  in  peace 
and  indispensable  in  war.  Ha!  here's  Sir  James." 

Both  ladies  perceived  Sir  James,  coming  briskly  up 
the  garden  path.  As  she  saw  him  a  thought  struck 
Diana — a  thought  which  concerned  Lady  Niton.  It 
broke  down  the  tension  of  her  look,  and  there  was  the 
gleam  of  a  smile — sad  still,  and  touching — in  the  glance 
she  threw  at  her  companion.  She  had  been  asked  to  tea 
to  meet  a  couple  of  guests  from  London  with  whose 
affairs  she  was  well  acquainted;  and  she  too  thought 
Sir  James  had  been  playing  Providence. 

Sir  James,  evidently  conscious,  saw  the  raillery  in  her 
face,  pinched  her  fingers  as  she  gave  him  her  hand,  and 
Diana,  passing  him,  escaped  to  the  garden,  very  certain 
that  she  should  find  the  couple  in  question  somewhere 
among  its  shades. 

Lady  Niton  examined  Sir  James — looked  after  Diana. 

"Look  here!"  she  said,  abruptly;  "what's  up?  You 
two  understand  something  I  don't.  Out  with  it!" 

Sir  James,  who  could  always  blush  like  a  girl,  blushed. 

"I  vow  that  I  am  as  innocent  as  a  babe  unborn!" 

"What  of?"  The  tone  of  the  demand  was  like  that 
of  a  sword  in  the  drawing. 

"I  have  some  guests  here  to-day." 

"Who  are  they?" 

"  A  young  man  you  know — a  young  woman  you  would 
like  to  know." 

Silence.     Lady  Niton  sat  down  again. 

"Kindly  ring  the  bell,"  she  said,  lifting  a  peremp- 
tory hand,  "and  send  for  my  carriage." 

"Let  me  parley  an  instant,"  said  Sir  James,  moving 
496 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

between  her  and  the  bell.     "Bobbie  is  just  off  to  Berlin. 
Won't  you  say  good-bye  to  him?" 

"Mr.  Forbes's  movements  are  entirely  indifferent  to 
me — ring!"  Then,  shrill-voiced — and  with  sudden  fury, 
like  a  bird  ruffling  up:  "Berlin,  indeed!  More  waste — 
more  shirking!  He  needn't  come  to  me!  I  won't  give 
him  another  penny." 

"I  don't  advise  you  to  offer  it,"  said  Sir  James,  with 
suavity.  "Bobbie  has  got  a  post  in  Berlin  through  his 
uncle,  and  is  going  off  for  a  twelvemonth  to  learn 
banking." 

Lady  Niton  sat  blinking  and  speechless.  Sir  James 
drew  the  muslin  curtain  back  from  the  window. 

"There  they  are,  you  see — Bobbie — and  the  Explana- 
tion. And  if  you  ask  me,  I  think  the  Explanation  ex- 
plains." 

Lady  Niton  put  up  her  gold-rimmed  glasses. 
"She  is  not  in  the  least  pretty!"  she  said,  with  hasty 
venom,  her  old  hand  shaking. 

"No,  but  fetching — and  a  good  girl.     She  worships 
her  Bobbie,  and  she's  sending  him  away  for  a  year." 
"  I  won't  allow  it !"  cried  Lady  Niton.    "  He  sha'n't  go." 
Sir  James  shrugged  his  shoulders. 
"These  are  domestic  brawls — I  decline  them.     Ah!" 
He  turned  to  the  window,  opening  it  wide.     She  did  not 
move.     He  made  a  sign,  and  two  of  the  three  persons 
who  had  just  appeared  on  the  lawn  came  running  tow- 
ard the  house.     Diana  loitered  behind. 

Lady  Niton  looked  at  the  two  young  faces  as  they 
reached  her  side — the  mingling  of  laughter  and  anxiety 
in  the  girl's,  of  pride  and  embarrassment  in  Bobbie's. 

"You  sha'n't  go  to  Berlin!"  she  said  to  him,  vehe- 
mently, as  she  just  allowed  him  to  take  her  hancj. 

497 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

"Dear  Lady  Niton!— I  must." 

"You  sha'n't! — I  tell  you!  I've  got  you  a  place  in 
London — a  thousand  times  better  than  your  fool  of  an 
uncle  could  ever  get  you.  Uncle,  indeed!  Read  that 
letter!"  She  tossed  him  one  from  her  bag. 

Bobbie  read,  while  Lady  Niton  stared  hard  at  the 
girl.  Presently  Bobbie  began  to  gasp. 

"Well,  upon  my  word!" — he  put  the  letter  down — 
"upon  my  word!"  He  turned  to  his  sweetheart.  "  Et- 
tie! — you  marry  me  in  a  month! — mind  that!  Hang 
Berlin !  I  scorn  their  mean  proposals.  London  requires 
me."  He  drew  himself  up.  "But  first"  (he  looked  at 
Lady  Niton,  his  flushed  face  twitching  a  little)  "jus- 
tice!" he  said,  peremptorily — "justice  on  the  chief  of- 
fender." 

And  walking  across  to  her,  he  stooped  and  kissed  her. 
Then  he  beckoned  to  Ettie  to  do  the  same.  Very  shyly 
the  girl  ventured;  very  stoically  the  victim  submitted. 
Whereupon,  Bobbie  subsided,  sitting  cross-legged  on  the 
floor,  and  a  violent  quarrel  began  immediately  between 
him  and  Lady  Niton  on  the  subject  of  the  part  of  London 
in  which  he  and  Ettie  were  to  live.  Fiercely  the  conflict 
waxed  and  waned,  while  the  young  girl's  soft  irrepressi- 
ble laughter  filled  up  all  the  gaps,  and  like  a  rushing 
stream  carried  away  the  detritus — the  tempers  and 
rancors  and  scorns — left  by  former  convulsions. 

Meanwhile,  Diana  and  Sir  James  paced  the  garden. 
He  saw  that  she  was  silent  and  absent-minded,  and 
guessed  uneasily  at  the  cause.  It  was  impossible  that 
any  woman  of  her  type,  who  had  gone  through  the  ex- 
perience that  she  had,  should  remain  unmoved  by  the 
accounts  now  current  as  to  Oliver  Marsham's  state. 

498 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

As  they  returned  across  the  lawn  to  the  house  the 
two  lovers  came  out  to  meet  them.  Sir  James  saw  the 
look  with  which  Diana  watched  them  coming.  It  seemed 
to  him  one  of  the  sweetest  and  one  of  the  most  piteous 
he  had  ever  seen  on  a  human  face. 

"I  shall  descend  upon  you  next  week,"  said  Lady 
Niton,  abruptly,  as  Diana  made  her  farewells.  "  I  shall 
be  at  Tallyn." 

Diana  did  not  reply.  The  little  fiancee  insisted  on  the 
right  to  take  her  to  her  pony-carriage,  and  kissed  her 
tenderly  before  she  let  her  go.  Diana  had  already  be- 
come as  a  sister  to  her  and  Bobbie,  trusted  in  their 
secrets  and  advising  in  their  affairs. 

Lady  Niton,  standing  by  Sir  James,  looked  after  her. 

"Well,  there's  only  one  thing  in  the  world  that  girl 
wants,  and  I  suppose  nobody  in  their  senses  ought  to 
help  her  to  it." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

She  murmured  a  few  words  in  his  ear. 

"Not  a  bit  of  it!"  said  Sir  James,  violently.  "I  for- 
bid it.  Don't  you  go  and  put  anything  of  the  sort  into 
her  head.  The  young  man  I  mean  her  to  marry  comes 
back  from  Nigeria  this  very  day." 

"She  won't  marry  him!" 

"We  shall  see." 

Diana  drove  home  through  lanes  suffused  with  sun- 
set  and  rich  with  autumn.  There  had  been  much  rain 
through  September,  and  the  deluged  earth  steamed  under 
the  return  of  the  sun.  Mists  were  rising  from  the  stub- 
bles, and  wrapping  the  woods  in  sleep  and  purple.  To  her 
the  beauty  of  it  all  was  of  a  mask  or  pageant — seen  from 
a  distance  across  a  plain  or  through  a  street-opening— 

499 


The   Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

lovely  and  remote.  All  that  was  real — all  that  lived — 
was  the  image  within  the  mind;  not  the  great  earth- 
show  without. 

As  she  passed  through  the  village  she  fell  in  with  the 
Roughsedges:  the  doctor,  with  his  wide-awake  on  the 
back  of  his  head,  a  book  and  a  bulging  umbrella  under 
his  arm;  Mrs.  Roughsedge,  in  a  new  shawl,  and  new 
bonnet-strings,  with  a  prodigal  flutter  of  side  curls  be- 
side her  ample  countenance.  Hugh,  it  appeared,  was 
•expected  by  an  evening  train.  Diana  begged  that  he 
might  be  brought  up  to  see  her  some  time  in  the  course 
of  the  following  afternoon.  Then  she  drove  on,  and 
Mrs.  Roughsedge  was  left  staring  discontentedly  at  her 
husband. 

"I  think  she  was  glad,  Henry?" 

"Think  it,  my  dear,  if  it  does  you  any  good,"  said  the 
doctor,  cheerfully. 

When  Diana  reached  home  night  had  fallen — a  moon- 
lit night,  through  which  all  the  shapes  and  even  the 
colors  of  day  were  still  to  be  seen  or  divined  in  a  softened 
and  pearly  mystery.  Muriel  Colwood  was  not  at  home. 
She  had  gone  to  town,  on  one  of  her  rare  absences,  to 
meet  some  relations.  Diana  missed  her,  and  yet  was 
conscious  that  even  the  watch  of  those  kind  eyes  would 
—to-night — have  added  to  the  passionate  torment  of 
thought. 

As  she  sat  alone  in  the  drawing-room  after  her  short 
and  solitary  meal  her  nature  bent  and  trembled  under 
the  blowing  of  those  winds  of  fate,  which,  like  gusts 
among  autumn  trees,  have  tested  or  strained  or  despoiled 
the  frail  single  life  since  time  began;  winds  of  love  and 
pity,  of  desire  and  memory,  of  anguish  and  of  longing. 

500 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

Only  her  dog  kept  her  company.  Sometimes  she  rose 
out  of  restlessness,  and  moved  about  the  room,  and  the 
dog's  eyes  would  follow  her,  dumbly  dependent.  The 
room  was  dimly  lit;  in  the  mirrors  she  saw  now  and  then 
the  ghostly  passage  of  some  one  who  seemed  herself  and 
not  herself.  The  windows  were  open  to  a  misty  garden, 
waiting  for  moonrise;  in  the  house  all  was  silence;  only 
from  the  distant  road  and  village  came  voices  sometimes 
of  children,  or  the  sounds  of  a  barrel-organ,  fragmentary 
and  shrill. 

Loneliness  ached  in  her  heart— spoke  to  her  from  the 
future.  And  five  miles  away  Oliver,  too,  was  lonely — 
and  in  pain.  Pain! — the  thought  of  it,  as  of  something 
embodied  and  devilish,  clutching  and  tearing  at  a  man 
already  crushed  and  helpless — gave  her  no  respite.  The 
tears  ran  down  her  cheeks  as  she  moved  to  and  fro,  her 
hands  at  her  breast. 

Yet  she  was  helpless.  What  could  she  do?  Even  if 
he  were  free  from  Alicia,  even  if  he  wished  to  recall  her, 
how  could  he — maimed  and  broken — take  the  steps  that 
could  alone  bring  her  to  his  side  ?  If  their  engagement 
had  subsisted,  horror,  catastrophe,  the  approach  of  death 
itself,  could  have  done  nothing  to  part  them.  Now,  how 
was  a  man  in  such  a  plight  to  ask  from  a  woman  what 
yet  the  woman  would  pay  a  universe  to  give?  And  in 
the  face  of  the  man's  silence,  how  could  the  woman 
speak  ? 

No! — she  began  to  see  her  life  as  the  Vicar  saw  it: 
pledged  to  large  causes,  given  to  drudgeries — necessary, 
perhaps  noble,  for  which  the  happy  are  not  meant.  This 
quiet  shelter  of  Beechcote  could  not  be  hers  much  longer. 
If  she  was  not  to  go  to  Oliver,  impossible  that  she  could 
live  on  in  this  rose-scented  stillness  of  the  old  house 


The   Testing    of    Diana    Mallorij 

and  garden,  surrounded  by  comfort,  tranquillity,  beau- 
ty, while  the  agony  of  the  world  rang  in  her  ears — wild 
voices!  —  speaking  universal,  terrible,  representative 
things,  yet  in  tones  piteously  dear  and  familiar,  close, 
close  to  her  heart.  No;  like  Marion  Vincent,  she  must 
take  her  life  in  her  hands,  offering  it  day  by  day  to  this 
hungry  human  need,  not  stopping  to  think,  accepting  the 
first  task  to  her  hand,  doing  it  as  she  best  could.  Only 
so  could  she  still  her  own  misery;  tame,  silence  her  own 
grief;  grief  first  and  above  all  for  Oliver,  grief  for  her 
own  youth,  grief  for  her  parents.  She  must  turn  to  the 
poor  in  that  mood  she  had  in  the  first  instance  refused 
to  allow  the  growth  of  in  herself — the  mood  of  one  seeking 
an  opiate,  an  anaesthetic.  The  scrubbing  of  hospital 
floors ;  the  pacing  of  dreary  streets  on  mechanical  errands ; 
the  humblest  obedience  and  routine ;  things  that  must  be 
done,  and  in  the  doing  of  them  deaden  thought— these 
were  what  she  turned  to  as  the  only  means  by  which 
life  could  be  lived. 

Oliver ! — No  hope  for  him  ? — at  thirty-six !  His  career 
broken  —  his  ambition  defeated.  Nothing  before  him 
but  the  decline  of  power  and  joy;  nights  of  barren  en- 
durance, separating  days  empty  and  tortured;  all  natural 
pleasures  deadened  and  destroyed;  the  dying  down  of 
all  the  hopes  and  energies  that  make  a  man. 

She  threw  herself  down  beside  the  open  window,  bury- 
ing her  face  on  her  knees.  Would  they  never  let  her  go 
to  him ? — never  let  her  say  to  him:  "  Oliver,  take  me! — 
you  did  love  me  once — what  matters  what  came  between 
us  ?  That  was  in  another  world.  Take  my  life — crush  out 
of  it  any  drop  of  comfort  or  of  ease  it  can  give  you !  Cruel, 
cruel— to  refuse !  It  is  mine  to  give  and  yours  to  spend !" 

Juliet  Sparling's  daughter.  There  was  the  great  con- 
502 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

secrating,  liberating  fact!  What  claim  had  she  to  the 
ordinary  human  joys  ?  What  could  the  ordinary  stand- 
ards and  expectations  of  life  demand  from  her?  Noth- 
ing!— nothing  that  could  stem  this  rush  of  the  heart 
to  the  beloved  —  the  forsaken  and  suffering  and  over- 
shadowed beloved.  Her  future? — she  held  it  dross — 
apart  from  Oliver.  Dear  Sir  James ! — but  he  must  learn 
to  bear  it — to  admit  that  she  stood  alone,  and  must  judge 
for  herself.  What  possible  bliss  or  reward  could  there 
ever  be  for  her  but  just  this:  to  be  allowed  to  watch 
and  suffer  with  Oliver — to  bring  him  the  invention,  the 
patience,  the  healing  divination  of  love  ?  And  if  it  were 
not  to  be  hers,  then  what  remained  was  to  go  down 
into  the  arena,  where  all  that  is  ugliest  and  most  piteous 
in  life  bleeds  and  gasps,  and  throw  herself  blindly  into 
the  fight.  Perhaps  some  heavenly  voice  might  still 
speak  through  it ;  perhaps,  beyond  its  jar,  some  ineffable 
reunion  might  dawn— 

"  First  a  peace  out  of  pain — then  a  light — then  thy  breast!  ..." 

She  trembled  through  and  through.  Restraining  her- 
self, she  rose,  and  went  to  her  locked  desk,  taking  from 
it  the  closely  written  journal  of  her  father's  life,  which 
had  now  been  for  months  the  companion  of  her  thoughts, 
and  of  the  many  lonely  moments  in  her  days  and  nights. 
She  opened  on  a  passage  tragically  familiar  to  her: 

"It  is  an  April  day.  Everything  is  very  still  and  balmy. 
The  clouds  are  low,  yet  suffused  with  sun.  They  seem  to  be 
tangled  among  the  olives,  and  all  the  spring  green  and  flowering 
fruit  trees  are  like  embroidery  on  a  dim  yet  shining  background 
of  haze,  silvery  and  glistening  in  the  sun,  blue  and  purple  in  the 
shadows.  The  peach-trees  in  the  olive  garden  throw  up  their 
pink  spray  among  the  shimmering  gray  leaf  and  beside  the 

5°3 


The  Testing    of   Diana    Mallorg 

gray  stone  walls.  Warm  breaths  steal  to  me  over  the  grass 
and  through  the  trees;  the  last  brought  with  it  a  strong  scent  of 
narcissus.  A  goat  tethered  to  a  young  tree  in  the  orchard  has 
reared  its  front  feet  against  the  stem,  and  is  nibbling  at  the 
branches.  His  white  back  shines  amid  the  light  spring  shade. 

"  Far  down  through  the  trees  I  can  see  the  sparkle  of  the 
waves — beyond,  the  broad  plain  of  blue;  and  on  the  headland, 
a  mile  away,  white  foam  is  dashing. 

"  It  is  the  typical  landscape  of  the  South,  and  of  spring,  the 
landscape,  with  only  differences  in  detail,  of  Theocritus  or 
Vergil,  or  the  Greek  anthologists,  those  most  delicate  singers  of 
nature  and  the  South.  From  the  beginning  it  has  filled  man 
with  the  same  joy,  the  same  yearning,  the  same  despair. 

"  In  youth  and  happiness  we  are  the  spring — the  young  green 
— the  blossom — the  plashing  waves.  Their  life  is  ours  and  one 
with  ours. 

"But  in  age  and  grief?  There  is  no  resentment,  I  think;  no 
anger,  as  though  a  mourner  resented  the  gayety  around  him; 
but,  rather,  a  deep  and  melancholy  wonder  at  the  chasm  that 
has  now  revealed  itself  between  our  life  and  nature.  What 
does  the  breach  mean? — the  incurable  dissonance  and  aliena- 
tion? Are  we  greater  than  nature,  or  less?  Is  the  opposition 
final,  the  prophecy  of  man's  ultimate  and  hopeless  defeat  at 
the  hands  of  nature? — or  is  it,  in  the  Hegelian  sense,  the  mere 
development  of  a  necessary  conflict,  leading  to  a  profounder 
and  intenser  unity?  The  old,  old  questions — stock  possessions 
of  the  race,  yet  burned  anew  by  life  into  the  blood  and  brain 
of  the  individual. 

"I  see  Diana  in  the  garden  with  her  nurse.  She  has  been 
running  to  and  fro,  playing  with  the  dog,  feeding  the  goat. 
Now  I  see  her  sitting  still,  her  chin  on  her  hands,  looking  out 
to  sea.  She  seems  to  droop;  but  I  am  sure  she  is  not  tired.  It 
is  an  attitude  not  very  natural  to  a  child,  especially  to  a  child 
so([uU  of  physical  health  and  vigor;  yet  she  often  falls  into  it. 

"  When  I  see  it  I  am  filled  with  dread.  She  knows  nothing, 
yet  the  cloud  seems  to  be  upon  her.  Does  she  already  ask  her- 
self questions— about  her  father— about  this  solitary  life? 

"Juliet  was  not  herself— not  in  her  full  sane  mind— when  I 
promised  her.  That  I  know.  But  I  could  no  more  have  re- 
fused the  promise  than  water  to  her  dying  lips.  One  awful 
evening  of  fever  and  hallucination  I  had  been  sitting  by  her  for 
a  long  time.  Her  thoughts,  poor  sufferer,  had  been  full  of 
it  is  hard  to  write  it— but  there  is  the  truth— a  physical 
horror  of  blood— the  blood  in  which  her  dress— the  dress  they 

504 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallorg 

took  from  her,  her  first  night  in  prison — was  once  steeped.  She 
saw  it  everywhere,  on  her  hands,  the  sheets,  the  walls;  it  was  a 
nausea,  an  agony  of  brain  and  flesh;  and  yet  it  was,  of  course,  but 
a  mere  symbol  and  shadow  of  the  manifold  agony  she  had  gone 
through.  I  will  not  attempt  to  describe  what  I  felt — what  the 
man  who  knows  that  his  neglect  and  selfishness  drove  her  the 
first  steps  along  this  infernal  road  must  feel  to  his  last  hour. — 
But  at  last  we  were  able — the  nurse  and  I — to  soothe  her  a  little. 
The  nightmare  lifted,  we  gave  her  food,  and  the  nurse  brushed 
her  poor  brown  hair,  and  tied  round  it,  loosely,  the  little  black 
scarf  she  likes  to  wear.  We  lifted  her  on  her  pillows,  and  her 
white  face  grew  calm,  and  so  lovely — though,  as  we  thought,  very 
near  to  death.  Her  hair,  which  was  cut  in  prison,  had  grown 
again  a  little — to  her  neck,  and  could  not  help  curling.  It  made 
her  look  a  child  again — poor,  piteous  child! — so  did  the  little 
scarf,  tied  under  her  chin — and  the  tiny  proportions  to  which 
all  her  frame  had  shrunk. 

"  She  lifted  her  face  to  mine,  as  I  bent  over  her,  kissed  me,  and 
asked  for  you.  You  were  brought,  and  I  took  you  on  my  knee, 
showing  you  pictures,  to  keep  you  quiet.  But  every  other 
minute,  almost,  your  eyes  looked  away  from  the  book  to  her, 
with  that  grave  considering  look,  as  though  a  question  were 
behind  the  look,  to  which  your  little  brain  could  not  yet  give 
shape.  My  strange  impression  was  that  the  question  was  there 
—  in  the  mind  —  fully  formed,  like  the  Platonic  'ideas'  in 
heaven;  but  that,  physically,  there  was  no  power  to  make  the 
word-copy  that  could  have  alone  communicated  it  to  us.  Your 
mother  looked  at  you  in  return,  intently — quite  still.  When 
you  began  to  get  restless,  I  lifted  you  up  to  kiss  her;  you  were 
startled,  perhaps,  by  the  cold  of  her  face,  and  struggled  away. 
A  little  color  came  into  her  cheeks;  she  followed  you  hungrily 
with  her  eyes  as  you  were  carried  off;  then  she  signed  to  me,  and 
it  was  my  hand  that  brushed  away  her  tears. 

"Immediately  afterward  she  began  to  speak,  with  wonderful 
will  and  self-control,  and  she  asked  me  that  till  you  were  grown 
up  and  knowledge  became  inevitable,  I  should  tell  you  nothing. 
There  was  to  be  no  talk  of  her,  no  picture  of  her,  no  letters.  As 
far  as  possible,  during  your  childhood  and  youth,  she  was  to  be 
to  you  as  though  she  had  never  existed.  What  her  thought  was 
exactly  she  was  too  feeble  to  explain;  nor  was  her  mind  strong 
enough  to  envisage  all  the  consequences — to  me,  as  well  as  to 
you — of  what  she  proposed.  No  doubt  it  tortured  her  to  think 
of  you  as  growing  up  under  the  cloud  of  her  name  and  fate,  and 
with  her  natural  and  tragic  impetuosity  she  asked  what  she  did. 

33  5°5 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

" '  One  day — there  will  come  some  one — who  will  love  her — in 
spite  of  me.  Then  you  and  he — shall  tell  her.' 

"  I  pointed  out  to  her  that  such  a  course  would  mean  that  I 
must  change  my  name  and  live  abroad.  Her  eyes  assented, 
with  a  look  of  relief.  She  knew  that  I  had  already  developed 
the  tastes  of  the  nomad  and  the  sun-worshipper,  that  I  was  a 
student,  happy  in  books  and  solitude;  and  I  have  no  doubt  that 
the  picture  her  mind  formed  at  the  moment  of  some  such  hidden 
life  together,  as  we  have  actually  led,  you  and  I,  since  her  death, 
soothed  and  consoled  her.  With  her  intense  and  poetic  imagina- 
tion, she  knew  well  what  had  happened  to  us,  as  well  as  to  herself. 

"  So  here  we  are  in  this  hermitage;  and  except  in  a  few  passing 
perfunctory  words,  I  have  never  spoken  to  you  of  her.  Whether 
what  I  have  done  is  wise  I  cannot  tell.  I  could  not  help  it ;  and 
if  I  had  broken  my  word,  remorse  would  have  killed  me.  I 
shall  not  die,  however,  without  telling  you — if  only  I  have  warn- 
ing enough. 

"  But  supposing  there  is  no  warning — then  all  that  I  write 
now,  and  much  else,  will  be  in  your  hands  some  day.  There  are 
moments  when  I  feel  a  rush  of  comfort  at  the  notion  that  I  may 
never  have  to  watch  your  face  as  you  hear  the  story;  there  are 
others  when  the  longing  to  hold  you  —  child  as  you  still  are 
— against  my  heart,  and  feel  your  tears — your  tears  for  her — 
mingling  with  mine,  almost  sweeps  me  off  my  feet. 

"And  when  you  grow  older  my  task  in  all  its  aspects  will  be 
harder  still.  You  have  inherited  her  beauty  on  a  larger,  ampler 
scale,  and  the  time  will  come  for  lovers.  You  will  hear  of  your 
mother  then  for  the  first  time;  my  mind  trembles  even  now  at 
the  thought  of  it.'  For  the  story  may  work  out  ill,  or  well,  in  a 
hundred  different  ways;  and  what  we  did  in  love  may  one  day 
be  seen  as  an  error  and  folly,  avenging  itself  not  on  us,  but  on 
our  child. 

"Nevertheless,  my  Diana,  if  it  had  to  be  done  again,  it 
must  still  be  done.  Your  mother,  before  she  died,  was  tortured 
by  no  common  pains  of  body  and  spirit.  Yet  she  never  thought 
of  herself — she  was  tormented  for  us.  If  her  vision  was  clouded, 
her  prayer  unwise — in  that  hour,  no  argument,  no  resistance  was 
possible. 

"The  man  who  loves  you  will  love  you  well,  my  child.  You 
are  not  made  to  be  lightly  or  faithlessly  loved.  He  will  carry 
you  through  the  passage  perilous  if  I  arn  no  longer  there  to  help. 
To  him — in  the  distant  years — I  commit  you.  On  him  be  my 
blessing,  and  the  blessing,  too,  of  that  poor  ghost  whose  hands  I 
seem  to  hold  in  mine  as  I  write.  Let  him  not  be  too  proud  to  take  it !" 

506 


The    Testing    of   Diana    Mallorg 

Diana  put  down  the  book  with  a  low  sob  that  sounded 
through  the  quiet  room.  Then  she  opened  the  garden 
door  and  stepped  on  to  the  terrace.  The  night  was  cold 
but  not  frosty;  there  was  a  waning  moon  above  the 
autumnal  fulness  of  the  garden  and  the  woods. 

A  "  spirit  in  her  feet "  impelled  her.  She  went  back  to 
the  house,  found  a  cloak  and  hat,  put  out  the  lamps,  and 
sent  the  servants  to  bed.  Then  noiselessly  she  once  more 
undid  the  drawing-room  door,  and  stole  out  into  the  gar- 
den and  across  the  lawn.  Soon  she  was  in  the  lime- 
walk,  the  first  yellow  leaves  crackling  beneath  her  feet; 
then  in  the  kitchen  garden,  where  the  apples  shone  dimly 
on  the  laden  boughs,  where  sunflowers  and  dahlias  and 
marigolds,  tall  white  daisies  and  late  roses — the  ghosts 
of  their  daylight  selves — dreamed  and  drooped  under 
the  moon;  where  the  bees  slept  and  only  great  moths 
were  abroad.  And  so  on  to  the  climbing  path  and  the 
hollows  of  the  down.  She  walked  quickly  along  the  edge 
of  it,  through  hanging  woods  of  beech  that  clothed  the 
hill-side.  Sometimes  the  trees  met  in  majestic  darkness 
above  her  head,  and  the  path  was  a  glimmering  mystery 
before  her.  Sometimes  the  ground  broke  away  on  her 
left — abruptly — in  great  chasms,  torn  from  the  hill-side, 
stripped  of  trees,  and  open  to  the  stars.  Down  rushed 
the  steep  slopes  to  the  plain,  clad  in  the  decaying  leaf 
and  mast  of  former  years,  and  at  the  edges  of  these  pre- 
cipitous glades,  or  scattered  at  long  intervals  across  them, 
great  single  trees  emerged,  the  types  and  masters  of  the 
forest,  their  trunks,  incomparably  tall,  and  all  their 
noble  limbs,  now  thinly  veiled  by  a  departing  leafage, 
drawn  sharp,  in  black  and  silver,  on  the  pale  back- 
ground of  the  chalk  plain.  Nothing  so  grandiose  as 
these  climbing  beech  woods  of  middle  England ! — by  day, 

507 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

as  it  were,  some  vast  procession  marching  joyously  over 
hill  and  dale  to  the  music  of  the  birds  and  the  wind;  and 
at  night,  a  brooding  host,  silent  yet  animate,  waiting 
the  signal  of  the  dawn. 

Diana  passed  through  them,  drinking  in  the  exaltation 
of  their  silence  and  their  strength,  yet  driven  on  by  the 
mere  weakness  and  foolishness  of  love.  By  following  the 
curve  of  the  down  she  could  reach  a  point  on  the  hill- 
side whence,  on  a  rising  ground  to  the  north,  Tallyn  was 
visible.  She  hastened  thither  through  the  night.  Once 
she  was  startled  by  a  shot  fired  from  a  plantation  near 
the  path,  trees  began  to  rustle  and  dogs  to  bark,  and  she 
fled  on,  in  terror  lest  the  Tallyn  keepers  might  discover 
her.  Alack! — for  whose  pleasure  were  they  watching 
now? 

The  trees  fell  back.  She  reached  the  bare  shoulder  of 
the  down.  Northward  and  eastward  spread  the  plain; 
and  on  the  low  hill  in  front  her  eyes  discerned  the  pale 
patch  of  Tallyn,  flanked  by  the  darkness  of  the  woods. 
And  in  that  dim  front,  a  light — surely  a  light? — in  an 
upper  window.  She  sank  down  in  a  hollow  of  the  chalk, 
her  eyes  upon  the  house,  murmuring  and  weeping. 

So  she  watched  with  Oliver,  as  once — at  the  moment 
of  her  sharpest  pain — he  had  watched  with  her.  But 
whereas  in  that  earlier  night  everything  was  in  the  man's 
hands  to  will  or  to  do,  the  woman  felt  herself  now  help- 
less and  impotent.  His  wealth,  his  mother  hedged  him 
from  her.  And  if  not,  he  had  forgotten  her  altogether  for 
Alicia ;  he  cared  for  her  no  more ;  it  would  merely  add  to 
his  burden  to  be  reminded  of  her.  As  to  Alicia — the  girl 
who  could  cruelly  leave  him  there,  in  that  house  of 
torture,  to  go  and  dance  and  amuse  herself — leave  him  in 
his  pain,  his  mother  in  her  sorrow — Diana's  whole  being 

508 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

was  shaken  first  with  an  anguish  of  resentful  scorn,  in 
which  everything  personal  to  herself  disappeared.  Then 
— by  an  immediate  revulsion — the  thought  of  Alicia  was 
a  thought  of  deliverance.  Gone? — gone  from  between 
them? — the  flaunting,  triumphant,  heartless  face? 

Suddenly  it  seemed  to  Diana  that  she  was  there  beside 
him,  in  the  darkened  room — that  he  heard  her,  and 
looked  up. 

"Diana!" 

"  Oliver!"  She  knelt  beside  him — she  raised  his  head 
on  her  breast — she  whispered  to  him;  and  at  last  he 
slept.  Then  hostile  forms  crowded  about  her,  forbidding 
her,  driving  her  away — even  Sir  James  Chide — in  the 
name  of  her  own  youth.  And  she  heard  her  own  answer: 
"Dear  friend! — think! — remember!  Let  me  stay! — let 
me  stay!  Am  I  not  the  child  of  sorrow?  Here  is  my 
natural  place — my  only  joy." 

And  she  broke  down  into  bitter  helpless  tears,  pleading, 
it  seemed,  with  things  and  persons  inexorable. 

Meanwhile,  in  Beechcote  village,  that  night,  a  man 
slept  lightly,  thinking  of  Diana.  Hugh  Roughsedge, 
bronzed  and  full  of  honors,  a  man  developed  and  ma- 
tured, with  the  future  in  his  hands,  had  returned  that 
afternoon  to  his  old  home. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

HOW  is  she?" 
Mrs.  Colwood  shook  her  head  sadly. 

"Not  well — and  not  happy." 

The  questioner  was  Hugh  Roughsedge.  The  young 
soldier  had  walked  up  to  Beechcote  immediately  after 
luncheon,  finding  it  impossible  to  restrain  his  impatience 
longer.  Diana  had  not  expected  him  so  soon,  and  had 
slipped  out  for  her  daily  half-hour  with  Betty  Dyson, 
who  had  had  a  slight  stroke,  and  was  failing  fast.  So 
that  Mrs.  Colwood  was  at  Roughsedge's  discretion.  But 
he  was  not  taking  all  the  advantage  of  it  that  he  might 
have  done.  The  questions  with  which  his  mind  was 
evidently  teeming  came  out  but  slowly. 

Little  Mrs.  Colwood  surveyed  him  from  time  to  time 
with  sympathy  and  pleasure.  Her  round  child-like  eyes 
under  their  long  lashes  told  her  everything  that  as  a 
woman  she  wanted  to  know.  What  an  improvement 
in  looks  and  manner — what  indefinable  gains  in  signifi- 
cance and  self-possession!  Danger,  command,  respon- 
sibility, those  great  tutors  of  men,  had  come  in  upon 
the  solid  yet  malleable  stuff  of  which  the  character  was 
made,  moulding  and  polishing,  striking  away  defects, 
disengaging  and  accenting  qualities.  Who  could  ever 
have  foreseen  that  Hugh  might  some  day  be  described  as 
"  a  man  of  the  world"  ?  Yet  if  that  vague  phrase  were  to 
be  taken  in  its  best  sens^,  as  describing  a  personality  both 


The  Testing    of    Diana    Mallorij 

tempered  and  refined  by  the  play  of  the  world's  forces 
upon  it,  it  might  certainly  be  now  used  of  the  man 
before  her. 

He  was  handsomer  than  ever;  bronzed  by  Nigerian 
sun,  all  the  superfluous  flesh  marched  off  him;  every 
muscle  in  his  frame  taut  and  vigorous.  And  at  the  same 
time  a  new  self-confidence — apparently  quite  unconscious, 
and  the  inevitable  result  of  a  strong  and  testing  ex- 
perience— was  enabling  him  to  bring  his  powers  to  bear 
and  into  play,  as  he  had  never  yet  done. 

She  recalled,  with  some  confusion,  that  she  —  and 
Diana'? — had  tacitly  thought  of  him  as  good,  but  stupid. 
On  the  contrary,  was  she,  perhaps,  in  the  presence  of 
some  one  destined  to  do  great  things  for  his  country  ?  to 
lay  hold — without  intending  it,  as  it  were,  and  by  the  left 
hand — on  high  distinction  ?  Were  women,  on  the  whole, 
bad  judges  of  young  men?  She  recalled  a  saying  of 
Dr.  Roughsedge,  that  "  mothers  never  know  how  clever 
their  sons  are."  Perhaps  the  blindness  extends  to  other 
eyes  than  mothers? 

Meanwhile,  she  got  from  him  all  the  news  she  could. 
He  had  been,  it  seemed,  concerned  in  the  vast  operation 
of  bringing  a  new  African  Empire  into  being.  She  lis- 
tened, dazzled,  while  in  the  very  simplest,  baldest  phrases 
he  described  the  curbing  of  slave-raiders,  the  winning  of 
populations,  the  grappling  with  the  desert,  the  opening 
out  of  river  highways,  whereof  in  his  seven  months  he 
had  been  the  fascinated  beholder.  As  to  his  own  ex- 
ploits, he  was  ingeniously  silent;  but  she  knew  them 
already.  A  military  expedition  against  two  revolted 
and  slave-raiding  emirs,  holding  strong  positions  on  the 
great  river;  a  few  officers  borrowed  from  home  to  stiffen 
a  local  militia;  hot  fighting  against  great  odds;  half  a 


The  Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

million  of  men  released  from  a  reign  of  hell;  tyranny 
broken,  and  the  British  pax  extended  over  regions  a 
third  as  large  as  India — smiling  prosperity  within  its 
pale,  bestial  devastation  and  cruelty  without  —  these 
things  she  knew,  or  had  been  able  to  imagine  from  the 
newspapers.  According  to  him,  it  had  been  all  the 
doing  of  other  men.  She  knew  better;  but  soon  found 
it  of  no  use  to  interrupt  him. 

Meanwhile  she  dared  not  ask  him  why  he  had  come 
home.  The  campaign,  indeed,  was  over ;  but  he  had  been 
offered,  it  appeared,  an  administrative  appointment. 

"And  you  mean  to  go  back?" 

"Perhaps."  He  colored  and  looked  restlessly  out  of 
the  window. 

Mrs.  Colwood  understood  the  look,  and  felt  it  was, 
indeed,  hard  upon  him  that  he  must  put  up  with  her  so 
long.  In  reality,  he  too  was  conscious  of  new  pleasure 
in  an  old  acquaintance.  He  had  forgotten  what  a  dear 
little  thing  she  was:  how  prettily  round-faced,  yet  deli- 
cate— ethereal — in  all  her  proportions,  with  the  kindest 
eyes.  She  too  had  grown — by  the  mere  contact  with 
Diana's  fate.  Within  her  tiny  frame  the  soul  of  her 
had  risen  to  maternal  heights,  embracing  and  sustaining 
Diana. 

He  would  have  given  the  world  to  question  her.  But 
after  her  first  answer  to  his  first  inquiry  he  had  fallen 
tongue-tied  on  the  subject  of  Diana,  and  Nigeria  had 
absorbed  conversation.  She,  on  her  side,  wished  him  to 
know  many  things,  but  did  not  see  how  to  begin  upon 
them. 

At  last  she  attempted  it. 

"You  have  heard  of  our  election?  And  what  hap- 
pened?" 

512 


The   Testing    of    Diana   Mallory 

He  nodded.  His  mother  had  kept  him  informed. 
He  understood  Marsham  had  been  badly  hurt.  Was  it 
really  so  desperate? 

In  a  cautious  voice,  watching  the  window,  Muriel 
told  what  she  knew.  The  recital  was  pitiful;  but  Hugh 
Roughsedge  sat  impassive,  making  no  comments.  She 
felt  that  in  this  quarter  the  young  man  was  adamant.  , 

"I  suppose" — he  turned  his  face  from  her — "Miss"1 
Mallory  does  not  now  go  to  Tallyn." 

"No."  She  hesitated,  looking  at  her  companion,  a 
score  of  feelings  mingling  in  her  mind.  Then  she  broke 
out:  "But  she  would  like  to!" 

His  startled  look  met  hers;  she  was  dismayed  at 
what  she  had  done.  Yet,  how  not  to  give  him  warning  ? 
— this  loyal  young  fellow,  feeding  himself  on  futile 
hopes! 

"  You  mean — she  still  thinks — of  Marsham  ?" 

"Of  nothing  else,"  she  said,  impetuously — "of  noth- 
ing else!" 

He  frowned  and  winced. 

She  resumed:  "  It  is  like  her — so  like  her! — isn't  it?" 

Her  soft  pitiful  eyes,  into  which  the  tears  had  sprung, 
pressed  the  question  on  him. 

"  I  thought  there  was  a  cousin — Miss  Drake  ?"  he  said, 
roughly. 

Mrs.  Colwood  hesitated. 

"  It  is  said  that  all  that  is  broken  off." 

He  was  silent.  But  his  watch  was  on  the  garden. 
And  suddenly,  on  the  long  grass  path,  Diana  appeared, 
side  by  side  with  the  Vicar.  Roughsedge  sprang  up. 
Muriel  was  arrested  by  Diana's  face,  and  by  something 
rigid  in  the  carriage  of  the  head.  What  had  the  Vicar 
been  saying  to  her  ? — she  asked  herself,  angrily.  Never 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

was  there  anything  less  discreet  than  the  Vicar's  handling 
of  human  nature! — female  human  nature,  in  particular. 

Hugh  Roughsedge  opened  the  glass  door,  and  went  to 
meet  them.  Diana,  at  sight  of  him,  gave  a  bewildered 
look,  as  though  she  scarcely  knew  him — then  a  per- 
functory hand. 

"Captain  Roughsedge!     They  didn't  tell  me — 

"I  want  to  speak  to  you,"  said  the  Vicar,  peremp- 
torily, to  Mrs.  Colwood ;  and  he  carried  her  off  round  the 
corner  of  the  house. 

Diana  gazed  after  them,  and  Roughsedge  thought  he 
saw  her  totter. 

"  You  look  so  ill!"  he  said,  stooping  over  her.  "  Come 
and  sit  down." 

His  boyish  nervousness  and  timidity  left  him.  The 
strong  man  emerged  and  took  command.  He  guided 
her  to  a  garden  seat,  under  a  drooping  lime.  She  sank 
upon  the  seat,  quite  unable  to  stand,  beckoning  him  to 
stay  by  her.  So  he  stood  near,  reluctantly  waiting, 
his  heart  contracting  at  the  sight  of  her. 

At  last  she  recovered  herself  and  sat  up. 

"  It  was  some  bad  news,"  she  said,  looking  at  him 
piteously,  and  holding  out  her  hand  again.  "  It  is  too 
bad  of  me  to  greet  you  like  this." 

He  took  her  hand,  and  his  own  self-control  broke 
down.  He  raised  it  to  his  lips  with  a  stifled  cry. 

"Don't! — don't!"  said  Diana,  helplessly.  "Indeed—- 
there is  nothing  the  matter — I  am  only  foolish.  It  is  so 
— so  good  of  you  to  care."  She  drew  her  hand  from 
his,  raised  it  to  her  brow,  and,  drawing  a  long  breath, 
pushed  back  the  hair  from  her  face.  She  was  like  a 
person  struggling  against  some  torturing  restraint,  not 
knowing  where  to  turn  for  help. 

514 


ROUGHSEDGE    STOOD    NEAR,     RELUCTANTLY     WAITING 


The   Testing    of   Diana   Mallorg 

But  at  the  word  "care"  he  pulled  himself  together. 
He  sat  down  beside  her,  and  plunged  straight  into  his 
declaration.  He  went  at  it  with  the  same  resolute 
simplicity  that  he  was  accustomed  to  throw  into  his 
military  duty,  nor  could  she  stop  him  in  the  least.  His 
unalterable  affection;  his  changed  and  improved  pros- 
pects; a  staff  appointment  at  home  if  she  accepted  him; 
the  Nigerian  post  if  she  refused  him — these  things  he 
put  before  her  in  the  natural  manly  speech  of  a  young 
Englishman  sorely  in  love,  yet  quite  incapable  of  "  high 
flights."  It  was  very  evident  that  he  had  pondered 
what  he  was  to  say  through  the  days  and  nights  of  his 
exile;  that  he  was  doing  precisely  what  he  had  always 
planned  to  do,  and  with  his  whole  heart  in  the  business. 
She  tried  once  or  twice  to  interrupt  him,  but  he  did  not 
mean  to  be  interrupted,  and  she  was  forced  to  hear  it 
out. 

At  the  end  she  gave  a  little  gasp. 

"  Oh,  Hugh!"  His  name,  given  him  for  the  first  time, 
fell  so  forlornly — it  was  such  a  breathing  out  of  trouble 
and  pity  and  despair — that  his  heart  took  another  and  a 
final  plunge  downward.  He  had  known  all  through 
that  there  was  no  hope  for  him;  this  tone,  this  aspect 
settled  it.  But  she  stretched  out  her  hands  to  him,  ten- 
derly— appealing.  "Hugh — I  shall  have  to  tell  you — 
but  I  am  ashamed." 

He  looked  at  her  in  silence  a  moment,  then  asked 
her  why.  The  tears  rose  brimming  in  her  eyes — her 
hands  still  in  his. 

"  Hugh — I — I — have  always  loved  Oliver  Marsham— 
and  I — cannot  think  of  any  one  else.  You  know  what 
has  happened?" 

He  saw  the  sob  swelling  in  her  white  throat. 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

"Yes!"  he  said,  passionately.  "It  is  horrible.  But 
you  cannot  go  to  him — you  cannot  marry  him.  He 
was  a  coward  when  he  should  have  stood  by  you.  He 
cannot  claim  you  now." 

She  withdrew  her  hands. 

"No!"  The  passion  in  her  voice  matched  his  own. 
"But  I  would  give  the  world  if  he  could — and  would!" 

There  was  a  pause.  Steadily  the  woman  gained  upon 
her  own  weakness  and  beat  it  down.  She  resumed: 

"  I  must  tell  you — because — it  is  the  only  way — for 
us  two — to  be  real  friends  again — and  I  want  a  friend 
so  much.  The  news  of  Oliver  is  —  is  terrible.  The 
Vicar  had  just  seen  Mr.  Lankester  — •  who  is  staying 
there.  He  is  nearly  blind — and  the  pain!"  Her  hand 
clinched — she  threw  her  head  back.  "  Oh !  I  can't  speak 
of  it!  And  it  may  go  on  for  years.  The  doctors  seem  to 
be  all  at  sea.  They  say  he  ought  to  recover — but  they 
doubt  whether  he  will.  He  has  lost  all  heart — and  hope 
— he  can't  help  himself.  He  lies  there  like  a  log  all  day 
— despairing.  And,  please — what  am  7  doing  here?" 
She  turned  upon  him  impetuously,  her  cheeks  flaming. 
"  They  want  help — there  is  no  one.  Mrs.  Fotheringham 
hardly  ever  comes.  They  think  Lady  Lucy  is  in  a  criti- 
cal state  of  health  too.  She  won't  admit  it — she  does 
everything  as  usual.  But  she  is  very  frail  and  ill,  and 
it  depresses  Oliver.  And  I  am  here ! — useless — and  help- 
less. Oh,  why  can't  I  go? — why  can't  I  go ?"  She  laid 
her  face  upon  her  arms,  on  the  bench,  hiding  it  from 
him;  but  he  saw  the  convulsion  of  her  whole  frame. 

Beside  a  passion  so  absolute  and  so  piteous  he  felt, 
his  own  claim  shrink  into  nothingness — impossible,  even, 
to  give  it  voice  again.  He  straightened  himself  in  silence , 
with  an  effort  of  the  whole  man,  the  lover  put  on  the  friend. 


The   Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

"Bat  you  can  go,"  he  caid,  a  little  hoarsely,  "if  you 
feel  like  that." 

She  raised  herself  suddenly. 

"  How  do  I  know  that  he  wants  me  ? — how  do  I  know 
that  he  would  even  see  me?" 

Once  more  her  cheeks  were  crimson.  She  had  shown 
him  her  love  unveiled ;  now  he  was  to  see  her  doubt — the 
shame  that  tormented  her.  He  felt  that  it  was  to  heal 
him  she  had  spoken,  and  he  could  do  nothing  to  repay 
her.  He  could  neither  chide  her  for  a  quixotic  self-sac- 
rifice, which  might  never  be. admitted  or  allowed;  nor 
protest,  on  Marsham's  behalf,  against  it,  for  he  knew,  in 
truth,  nothing  of  the  man;  least  of  all  could  he  plead  for 
himself.  He  could  only  sit,  staring  like  a  fool,  tongue- 
tied;  till  Diana,  mastering,  for  his  sake,  the  emotion  to 
which,  partly  also  for  his  sake,  she  had  given  rein,  grad- 
ually led  the  conversation  back  to  safer  and  cooler 
ground.  All  the  little  involuntary  arts  came  in  by  which 
a  woman  regains  command  of  herself,  and  thereby  of  her 
companion.  Her  hat  tired  her  head;  she  removed  it, 
and  the  beautiful  hair  underneath,  falling  into  confusion, 
must  be  put  in  its  place  by  skilled  instinctive  fingers, 
every  movement  answering  to  a  similar  self-restraining 
effort  in  the  mind  within.  She  dried  her  tears;  she  drew 
closer  the  black  scarf  round  the  shoulders  of  her  white 
dress;  she  straightened  the  violets  at  her  belt — Muriel's 
mid-day  gift  —  till  he  beheld  her,  white  and  suffering 
indeed,  but  lovely  and  composed — queen  of  herself. 

She  made  him  talk  of  his  adventures,  and  he  obeyed 
her,  partly  to  help  her  in  the  struggle  he  perceived,  part- 
ly because  in  the  position — beneath  and  beyond  all  hope 
— to  which  she  had  reduced  him,  it  was  the  only  way  by 
which  he  could  save  anything  out  of  the  wreck.  And 


The  Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

she  bravely  responded.  She  could  and  did  lend  him 
enough  of  her  mind  to  make  it  worth  his  while.  A  friend 
should  not  come  home  to  her  from  perils  of  land  and  sea, 
and  find  her  ungrateful — a  niggard  of  sympathy  and 
praise. 

So  that  when  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Roughsedge  appeared,  and 
Muriel  returned  with  them,  Mrs.  Roughsedge,  all  on 
edge  with  anxiety,  could  make  very  little  of  what  had — 
what  must  have — occurred.  Diana,  carved  in  white  wax, 
but  for  the  sensitive  involuntary  movements  of  lip  and 
eyebrow,  was  listening  to  a  description  of  an  English 
embassy  sent  through  the  length  and  breadth  of  the 
most  recently  conquered  province  of  Nigeria.  The  em- 
bassy took  the  news  of  peace  and  Imperial  rule  to  a 
country  devastated  the  year  before  by  the  most  hideous 
of  slave-raids.  The  road  it  marched  by  was  strewn  with 
the  skeletons  of  slaves — had  been  so  strewn  probably 
for  thousands  of  years.  "  One  night  my  horse  trod  un- 
awares on  two  skeletons — women — locked  in  each  other's 
arms,"  said  Hugh;  "scores  of  others  round  them.  In 
the  evening  we  camped  at  a  village  where  every  able- 
bodied  male  had  been  killed  the  year  before." 

"Shot?"  asked  the  doctor. 

"  Oh,  dear,  no !  That  would  have  been  to  waste  ammu- 
nition. A  limb  was  hacked  off,  and  they  bled  to  death." 

His  mother  was  looking  at  the  speaker  with  all  her 
eyes,  but  she  did  not  hear  a  word  he  said.  Was  he  pale 
or  not? 

Diana  shuddered. 

"And  that  is  stopped — forever?"  Her  eyes  were  on 
the  speaker. 

"As  long  as  our  flag  flies  there,"  said  the  soldier, 
simply. 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallorg 

Her  look  kindled.  For  a  moment  she  was  the  shadow, 
the  beautiful  shadow,  of  her  old  Imperialist  self — the 
proud,  disinterested  lover  of  her  country. 

The  doctor  shook  his  head. 

"  Don't  forget  the  gin,  and  the  gin-traders  on  the 
other  side,  Master  Hugh." 

"They  don't  show  their  noses  in  the  new  provinces," 
said  the  young  man,  quietly;  "we  shall  straighten  that 
out  too,  in  the  long  run — -you'll  see." 

But  Diana  had  ceased  to  listen.  Mrs.  Roughsedge, 
turning  toward  her,  and  with  increasing  foreboding,  saw, 
as  it  were,  the  cloud  of  an  inward  agony,  suddenly  re- 
called, creep  upon  the  fleeting  brightness  of  her  look,  as 
the  evening  shade  mounts  upon  and  captures  a  sunlit 
hill-side.  The  mother,  in  spite  of  her  native  optimism, 
had  never  cherished  any  real  hope  of  her  son's  success. 
But  neither  had  she  expected,  on  the  other  side,  a  cer- 
tainty so  immediate  and  so  unqualified.  She  saw  be- 
fore her  no  settled  or  resigned  grief.  The  Tallyn  tragedy 
had  transformed  what  had  been  almost  a  recovered  se- 
renity, a  restored  and  patient  equilibrium,  into  some- 
thing violent,  tumultuous,  unstable — prophesying  action. 
But  what — poor  child! — could  the  action  be? 

"Poor  Hugh!"  said  Mrs.  Roughsedge  to  her  husband 
on  their  return,  as  she  stood  beside  him,  in  his  study. 
Her  voice  was  low,  for  Hugh  had  only  just  gone  up-stairs, 
and  the  little  house  was  thinly  built. 

The  doctor  rubbed  his  nose  thoughtfully,  and  then 
looked  round  him  for  a  cigarette. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  slowly;  "but  he  enjoyed  his  walk 
home." 

"Henry!" 


The   Testing   of    Diana    Mallorg 

Hugh  had  walked  back  to  the  village  with  Mrs.  Col- 
wood,  who  had  an  errand  there,  and  it  was  true  that  he 
had  talked  much  to  her  out  of  earshot  of  his  parents, 
and  had  taken  a  warm  farewell  of  her  at  the  end. 

"Why  am  I  to  be  '  Henry '-ed?" — inquired  the  doc- 
tor, beginning  on  his  cigarette. 

"Because  you  must  know,"  said  his  wife,  in  an  ener- 
getic whisper,  "that  Hugh  had  almost  certainly  pro- 
posed to  Miss  Mallory  before  we  arrived,  and  she  had 
refused  him!" 

The  doctor  meditated. 

"  I  still  say  that  Hugh  enjoyed  his  walk,"  he  repeated; 
"I  trust  he  will  have  others  of  the  same  kind — with 
the  same  person." 

"Henry,  you  are  really  incorrigible!"  cried  his  wife. 
"  How  can  you  make  jokes — on  such  a  thing — with  that 
girl's  face  before  you!" 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  the  doctor,  protesting.  "  I  am  not 
making  jokes,  Patricia.  But  what  you  women  never 
will  understand  is,  that  it  was  not  a  woman  but  a  man 
that  wrote — 

" '  If  she  be  not  fair  for  me — 
What  care  I — '" 

"Henry!"  and  his  wife,  beside  herself,  tried  to  stop 
his  mouth  with  her  hand. 

"All  right,  I  won't  finish,"  said  the  doctor,  placidly, 
disengaging  himself.  "  But  let  me  assure  you,  Patricia, 
whether  you  like  it  or  not,  that  that  is  a  male  sentiment. 
I  quite  agree  that  no  nice  woman  could  have  written  it. 
But,  then,  Hugh  is  not  a  nice  woman — nor  am  I." 

"I  thought  you  were  so  fond  of  her!"  said  his  wife, 
reproachfully. 

520 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

"Miss  Mallory?  I  adore  her.  But,  to  tell  the  truth, 
Patricia,  I  want  a  daughter-in-law — and — and  grand- 
children," added  the  doctor,  deliberately,  stretching  out 
his  long  limbs  to  the  fire.  "  I  admit  that  my  remarks 
may  be  quite  irrelevant  and  ridiculous — but  I  repeat 
that — in  spite  of  everything — Hugh  enjoyed  his  walk." 

One  October  evening,  a  week  later,  Lady  Lucy  sat 
waiting  for  Sir  James  Chide  at  Tallyn  Hall.  Sir  James 
had  invited  himself  to  dine  and  sleep,  and  Lady  Lucy 
was  expecting  him  in  the  up-stairs  sitting-room,  a 
medley  of  French  clocks  and  china  figures,  where  she 
generally  sat  now,  in  order  to  be  within  quick  and  easy 
reach  of  Oliver. 

She  was  reading,  or  pretending  to  read,  by  the  fire, 
listening  all  the  time  for  the  sound  of  the  carriage 
outside.  Meanwhile,  the  silence  of  the  immense  house 
oppressed  her.  It  was  broken  only  by  the  chiming  of  a 
carillon  clock  in  the  hall  below.  The  little  tune  it  played, 
fatuously  gay,  teased  her  more  insistently  each  time  she 
heard  it.  It  must  really  be  removed.  She  wondered 
Oliver  had  not  already  complained  of  it. 

A  number  of  household  and  estate  worries  oppressed 
her  thoughts.  How  was  she  to  cope  with  them?  Ca- 
pable as  she  was,  "John"  had  always  been  there  to  ad- 
vise her,  in  emergency — or  Oliver.  She  suspected  the 
house  -  steward  of  dishonesty.  And  the  agent  of  the 
estate  had  brought  her  that  morning  complaints  of 
the  head  game-keeper  that  were  most  disquieting.  What 
did  they  want  with  game-keepers  now?  Who  would 
ever  shoot  at  Tallyn  again?  With  impatience  she  felt 
herself  entangled  in  the  endless  machinery  of  wealth  and 
the  pleasures  of  wealth,  so  easy  to  set  in  motion,  and  so 

34  521 


The   Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

difficult  to  stop,  even  when  all  the  savor  has  gone  out 
of  it.  She  was  a  tired,  broken  woman,  with  an  invalid 
son ;  and  the  management  of  her  great  property,  in  which 
her  capacities  and  abilities  had  taken  for  so  long  an 
imperious  and  instinctive  delight,  had  become  a  mere 
burden.  She  longed  to  creep  into  some  quiet  place, 
alone  with  Oliver,  out  of  reach  of  this  army  of  servants 
and  dependents,  these  impassive  and  unresponsive  faces. 

The  crunching  of  the  carriage  wheels  on  the  gravel 
outside  gave  her  a  start  of  something  like  pleasure. 
Among  the  old  friends  there  was  no  one  now  she  cared 
so  much  to  see  as  Sir  James  Chide.  Sir  James  had  lately 
left  Parliament  and  politics,  and  had  taken  a  judgeship. 
She  understood  that  he  had  lost  interest  in  politics  after 
and  in  consequence  of  John  Ferrier's  death;  and  she 
knew,  of  course,  that  he  had  refused  the  Attorney-Gen- 
eralship, on  the  ground  of  the  treatment  meted  out 
to  his  old  friend  and  chief.  During  the  month  of  Oliver's 
second  election,  moreover,  she  had  been  very  conscious 
of  Sir  James's  hostility  to  her  son.  Intercourse  between 
him  and  Tallyn  had  practically  ceased. 

Since  the  accident,  however,  he  had  been  kind — -very 
kind. 

The  door  opened,  and  Sir  James  was  announced. 
She  greeted  him  with  a  tremulous  and  fluttering  warmth 
that  for  a  moment  embarrassed  her  visitor,  accustomed 
to  the  old  excess  of  manner  and  dignity,  wherewith  she 
kept  her  little  world  in  awe.  He  saw,  too,  that  the 
havoc  wrought  by  age  and  grief  had  gone  forward  rap- 
idly since  he  had  seen  her  last. 

"I  am  afraid  there  is  no  better  news  of  Oliver?"  he 
said,  gravely,  as  he  sat  down  beside  her. 

She  shook  her  head. 

522 


The   Testing    of    Diana   Mallory 

"  We  are  in  despair.  Nothing  touches  the  pain  but 
morphia.  And  he  has  lost  heart  himself  so  much  during 
the  last  fortnight." 

"You  have  had  any  fresh  opinion?" 

"  Yes.  The  last  man  told  me  he  still  believed  the 
injury  was  curable,  but  that  Oliver  must  do  a  great 
deal  for  himself.  And  that  he  seems  incapable  of  doing. 
It  is,  of  course,  the  shock  to  the  nerves,  and — the  gen- 
eral— disappointment — 

Her  voice  shook.     She  stared  into  the  fire. 

"You  mean — about  politics?"  said  Sir  James,  after 
a  pause. 

"  Yes.  Whenever  I  speak  cheerfully  to  him,  he  asks 
me  what  there  is  to  live  for.  He  has  been  driven  out  of 
politics — by  a  conspiracy — " 

Sir  James  moved  impatiently. 

"With  health  he  would  soon  recover  everything," 
he  said,  rather  shortly. 

She  made  no  reply,  and  her  shrunken  faded  look — as 
of  one  with  no  energy  for  hope — again  roused  his  pity. 

"Tell  me,"  he  said, bending  toward  her — "I  don't  ask 
from  idle  curiosity — but — has  there  been  any  truth  in 
the  rumor  of  Oliver's  engagement  to  Miss  Drake?" 

Lady  Lucy  raised  her  head  sharply.  The  light  came 
back  to  her  eyes. 

"  She  was  engaged  to  him,  and  three  weeks  after  his 
accident  she  threw  him  over." 

Sir  James  made  a  sound  of  amazement.  Lady  Lucy 
went  on: 

"  She  left  him  and  me,  barely  a  fortnight  afterward, 
to  go  to  a  big  country-house  party  in  the  north.  That 
will  show  you — what  she's  made  of.  Then  she  wrote — 
a  hypocritical  letter — putting  it  on  him.  He  must  not 

523 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

be  agitated,  nor  feel  her  any  burden  upon  him;  so,  for 
his  sake,  she  broke  it  off.  Of  course,  they  were  to  be 
cousins  and  friends  again  just  as  before.  She  had  ar- 
ranged it  all  to  her  own  satisfaction — and  was  mean- 
while flirting  desperately,  as  we  heard  from  various 
people  in  the  north,  with  Lord  Philip  Darcy.  Oliver 
showed  me  her  letter,  and  at  last  told  me  the  whole 
story.  I  persuaded  him  not  to  answer  it.  A  fortnight 
ago,  she  wrote  again,  proposing  to  come  back  here — 
to  'look  after'  us — poor  things!  This  time,  7  replied. 
She  would  like  Tallyn,  no  doubt,  as  a  place  of  retreat, 
should  other  plans  fail ;  but  it  will  not  be  open  to 
her!" 

It  was  not  energy  now — vindictive  energy — that  was 
lacking  to  the  personality  before  him! 

"An  odious  young  woman"  exclaimed  Sir  James, 
lifting  hands  and  eyebrows.  "  I  am  afraid  I  always 
thought  so,  saving  .your  presence,  Lady  Lucy.  How- 
ever, she  will  want  a  retreat;  for  her  plans — in  the  quar- 
ter you  name — have  not  a  chance  of  success. ' ' 

"I  am  delighted  to  hear  it!"  said  Lady  Lucy,  still 
erect  and  flushed.  "What  do  you  know?" 

"  Simply  that  Lord  Philip  is  not  in  the  least  likely  to 
marry  her,  having,  I  imagine,  views  in  quite  other  quar- 
ters— so  I  am  told.  But  he  is  the  least  scrupulous  of 
men — and  no  doubt  if,  at  Eastham,  she  threw  herself 
into  his  arms — 'what  mother's  son,'  et  cetera.  Only, 
if  she  imagined  herself  to  have  caught  him — such  an  old 
and  hardened  stager! — in  a  week — her  abilities  are  less 
than  I  supposed." 

"Alicia's  self-conceit  was  always  her  weak  point." 

But  as  she  spoke  the  force  imparted  by  resentment 
died  away.  Lady  Lucy  sank  back  in  her  chair. 

524 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

"Aud  Oliver  felt  it  very  much?"  asked  Sir  James, 
after  a  pause,  his  shrewd  eyes  upon  her. 

"  He  was  wounded,  of  course — he  has  been  more 
depressed  since ;  but  I  have  never  believed  that  he  was 
in  love  with  her." 

Sir  James  did  not  pursue  the  subject,  but  the  vivacity 
of  the  glance  bent  now  on  the  fire,  now  on  his  compan- 
ion, betrayed  the  marching  thoughts  hehind. 

"Will  Oliver  see  me  this  evening?"  he  inquired,  pres- 
ently. 

"I  hope  so.     He  promised  me  to  make  the  effort." 

A  servant  knocked  at  the  door.  It  was  Oliver's 
valet. 

"  Please,  my  lady,  Mr.  Marsham  wished  me  to  say  he 
was  afraid  he  would  not  be  strong  enough  to  see  Sir 
James  Chide  to-night.  He  is  very  sorry — and  would 
Sir  James  be  kind  enough  to  come  and  see  him  after 
breakfast  to-morrow?" 

Lady  Lucy  threw  up  her  hands  in  a  little  gesture  of 
despair.  Then  she  rose,  and  went  to  speak  to  the  servant 
in  the  doorway. 

When  she  returned  she  looked  whiter  and  more  shriv- 
elled than  before. 

"Is  he  worse  to-night?"  asked  Sir  James,  gently. 

"It  is  the  pain,"  she  said, in  a  muffled  voice;  "and  we 
can't  touch  it — yet.  He  mustn't  have  any  more  mor- 
phia— yet." 

She  sat  down  once  more.  Sir  James,  the  best  of 
gossips,  glided  off  into  talk  of  London,  and  of  old  com- 
mon friends,  trying  to  amuse  and  distract  her.  But 
he  realized  that  she  scarcely  listened  to  him,  and  that  he 
was  talking  to  a  woman  whose  life  was  being  ground 
away  between  a  last  affection  and  the  torment  it  had 

525 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

power  to  cause  her.  A  new  Lady  Lucy,  indeed!  Had 
any  one  ever  dared  to  pity  her  before  ? 

Meanwhile,  five  miles  off,  a  girl  whom  he  loved  as  a 
daughter  was  eating  her  heart  out  for  sorrow  over  this 
mother  and  son — consumed,  as  he  guessed,  with  the 
wild  desire  to  offer  them,  in  any  sacrificial  mode  they 
pleased,  her  youth  and  her  sweet  self.  In  one  way  or 
another  he  had  found  out  that  Hugh  Roughsedge  had 
been  sent  about  his  business — of  course,  with  all  the 
usual  softening  formulae. 

And  now  there  was  a  kind  of  mute  conflict  going  on 
between  himself  and  Mrs.  Col  wood  on  the  one  side,  and 
Diana  on  the  other  side. 

No,  she  should  not  spend  and  waste  her  youth  in 
the  vain  attempt  to  mend  this  house  of  tragedy ! — it  was 
not  to  be  tolerated — not  to  be  thought  of.  She  would 
suffer,  but  she  would  get  over  it;  and  Oliver  would 
probably  die.  Sooner  or  later  she  would  begin  life 
afresh,  if  only  he  was  able  to  stand  between  her  and  the 
madness  in  her  heart. 

But  as  he  sat  there,  looking  at  Lady  Lucy,  he  realized 
that  it  might  have  been  better  for  his  powers  and  ef- 
ficacy as  a  counsellor  if  he,  too,  had  held  aloof  from  this 
house  of  pain. 


CHAPTER    XXIV 

IT  was  about  ten  o'clock  at  night.  Lankester,  who 
had  arrived  from  London  an  hour  before,  had  said 
good-night  to  Lady  Lucy  and  Sir  James,  and  had  slipped 
into  Marsham's  room.  Marsham  had  barred  his  door 
that  evening  against  both  his  mother  and  Sir  James. 
But  Lankester  was  not  excluded. 

Off  and  on  and  in  the  intervals  of  his  parliamentary 
work  he  had  been  staying  at  Tallyn  for  some  days.  A 
letter  from  Lady  Lucy,  in  reply  to  an  inquiry,  had  brought 
him  down.  Oliver  had  received  him  with  few  words — 
indeed,  with  an  evident  distaste  for  words;  but  at  the 
end  of  the  first  day's  visit  had  asked  him  abruptly,  per- 
emptorily even,  to  come  again. 

When  he  entered  Marsham's  room  he  found  the 
invalid  asleep  under  the  influence  of  morphia.  The 
valet,  a  young  fellow,  was  noiselessly  putting  things 
straight.  Lankester  noticed  that  he  looked  pale. 

"A  bad  time?"  he  said,  in  a  whisper,  standing  beside 
the  carefully  regulated  spinal  couch  on  which  Marsham 
was  sleeping. 

"Awful,  sir.  He  was  fair  beside  himself  till  we  gave 
him  the  morphia." 

"Is  there  anybody  sitting  up?" 

"No.  He'll  be  quiet  now  for  six  or  seven  hours.  I 
shall  be  in  the  next  room." 

The  young  man  spoke  wearily.  It  was  clear  that  the 

527 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mai  lory 

moral  strain  of  what  he  had  just  seen  had  weighed  upon 
him  as  much  as  the  fatigue  of  the  day's  attendance. 

"Come!"  said  Lankester,  looking  at  him.  "You 
want  a  good  night.  Go  to  my  room.  I'll  lie  down 
there."  He  pointed  to  Marsham's  bedroom,  now  appro- 
priated to  the  valet,  while  the  master,  for  the  sake  of 
space  and  cheerfulness,  had  been  moved  into  the  sitting- 
room.  The  servant  hesitated,  protested,  and  was  at 
last  persuaded,  being  well  aware  of  Marsham's  liking 
for  this  queer,  serviceable  being. 

Lankester  took  various  directions  from  him,  and 
packed  him  off.  Then,  instead  of  going  to  the  adjoin- 
ing room,  he  chose  a  chair  beside  a  shaded  lamp,  and 
said  to  himself  that  he  would  sleep  by  the  fire. 

Presently  the  huge  house  sank  into  a  silence  even 
more  profound  than  that  in  which  it  was  now  steeped  by 
day.  A  cold  autumn  wind  blew  round  about  it.  After 
midnight  the  wind  dropped,  and  the  temperature  with 
it.  The  first  severe  frost  laid  its  grip  on  forest  and 
down  and  garden.  Silently  the  dahlias  and  the  roses 
died,  the  leaves  shrivelled  and  blackened,  and  a  cold  and 
glorious  moon  rose  upon  the  ruins  of  the  summer. 

Lankester  dozed  and  woke,  keeping  up  the  fire,  and 
wrapping  himself  in  an  eider-down,  with  which  the 
valet  had  provided  him.  In  the  small  hours  he  walked 
across  the  room  to  look  at  Marsham.  He  was  lying 
still  and  breathing  heavily.  His  thick  fair  hair,  always 
slightly  gray  from  the  time  he  was  thirty,  had  become 
much  grayer  of  late;  the  thin  handsome  face  was  drawn 
and  damp,  the  eyes  cavernous,  the  lips  bloodless.  Even 
in  sleep  his  aspect  showed  what  he  had  suffered. 

Poor,  poor  old  fellow! 

Lankester's  whole  being  softened  into  pity.  Yet  he 
528 


The   Testing    otf   Diana    Mallory 

had  no  illusions  as  to  the  man  before  him — a  man  of 
inferior  morale  and  weak  will,  incapable,  indeed,  of  the 
clever  brutalities  by  which  the  wicked  flourish ;  incapable 
also  of  virtues  that  must,  after  all,  be  tolerably  common, 
or  the  world  would  run  much  more  lamely  than  it  does. 
Straight,  honorable,  unselfish  fellows — Lankester  knew 
scores  of  them,  rich  and  poor,  clever  and  slow,  who  could 
and  did  pass  the  tests  of  life  without  flinching;  who 
could  produce  in  any  society — as  politicians  or  green- 
grocers— an  impression  of  uprightness  and  power,  an 
effect  of  character,  that  Marsham,  for  all  his  ability,  had 
never  produced,  or,  in  the  long  run,  and  as  he  came  to 
be  known,  had  never  sustained. 

Well,  what  then  ?  In  the  man  looking  down  on  Mar- 
sham  not  a  tinge  of  pharisaic  condemnation  mingled 
with  the  strange  clearness  of  his  judgment.  What  are 
we  all — the  best  of  us  ?  Lankester  had  not  parted,  like 
the  majority  of  his  contemporaries,  with  the  "sense  of 
sin."  A  vivid,  spiritual  imagination,  trained  for  years 
on  prayer  and  reverie,  showed  him  the  world  and  human 
nature — his  own  first  and  foremost — everywhere  flecked 
and  stained  with  evil.  For  the  man  of  religion  the  dif- 
ference between  saint  and  sinner  has  never  been  as  sharp 
as  for  the  man  of  the  world;  it  is  for  the  difference  be- 
tween holiness  and  sin  that  he  reserves  his  passion.  And 
the  stricken  or  repentant  sinner  is  at  all  times  nearer 
to  his  heart  than  the  men  "who  need  no  repentance." 

Moreover,  it  is  in  men  like  Lankester  that  the  ascetic 
temper  common  to  all  ages  and  faiths  is  perpetually  re- 
produced, the  temper  which  makes  of  suffering  itself  a 
divine  and  sacred  thing — the  symbol  of  a  mystery.  In 
his  own  pity  for  this  emaciated  arrested  youth  he  read 
the  pledge  of  a  divine  sympathy,  the  secret  voice  of  a 

529 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

God  suffering  for  and  with  man.  which,  in  its  myriad 
forms,  is  the  primeval  faith  of  the  race.  Where  a 
thinker  of  another  type  would  have  seen  mere  aimless 
waste  and  mutilation,  this  evangelical  optimist  bared  the 
head  and  bent  the  knee.  The  spot  whereon  he  stood  was 
holy  ground,  and  above  this  piteous  sleeper  heavenly 
dominations,  princedoms,  powers,  hung  in  watch. 

He  sank,  indeed,  upon  his  knees  beside  the  sleeper.  In 
the  intense  and  mystical  concentration,  which  the  habit 
of  his  life  had  taught  him,  the  prayer  to  which  he  com- 
mitted himself  took  a  marvellous  range  without  ever 
losing  its  detail,  its  poignancy.  The  pain,  moral  and 
physical,  of  man — pain  of  the  savage,  the  slave,  the 
child;  the  'miseries  of  innumerable  persons  he  had 
known,  whose  stories  had  been  confided  to  him,  whose 
fates  he  had  shared;  the  anguish  of  irreparable  failure, 
of  missed,  untasted  joy;  agonies  brutal  or  obscure,  of 
nerve  and  brain! — his  mind  and  soul  surrendered  them- 
selves to  these  impressions,  shook  under  the  storm  and 
scourge  of  them.  His  prayer  was  not  his  own ;  it  seemed 
to  be  the  Spirit  wrestling  with  Itself,  and  rending  his  own 
weak  life. 

He  drew  nearer  to  Marsham,  resting  his  forehead  on 
the  bed.  The  firelight  threw  the  shadow  of  his  gaunt 
kneeling  figure  on  the  white  walls.  And  at  last,  after 
the  struggle,  there  seemed  to  be  an  effluence — a  descend- 
ing, invading  love — overflowing  his  own  being — enwrap- 
ping the  sufferer  before  him — silencing  the  clamor  of  a 
weeping  world.  And  the  dual  mind  of  the  modern,  even 
in  Lankester,  wavered  between  the  two  explanations: 
"  It  is  myself,"  said  the  critical  intellect,  "  the  intensifi- 
cation and  projection  of  myself."  "//  is  God!'''  replied 
the  soul. 

530 


The   Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

Marsham,  meanwhile,  as  the  morning  drew  on,  and  as 
the  veil  of  morphia  between  him  and  reality  grew  thin- 
ner, was  aware  of  a  dream  slowly  drifting  into  conscious- 
ness— of  an  experience  that  grew  more  vivid  as  it  pro- 
gressed. Some  one  was  in  the  room;  he  moved  uneasily, 
lifted  his  head,  and  saw  indistinctly  a  figure  in  the  shad- 
ows standing  near  the  smouldering  fire.  It  was  not  his 
servant ;  and  suddenly  his  dream  mingled  with  what  he 
saw,  and  his  heart  began  to  throb. 

"Ferrier!"  he  called,  under  his  breath.  The  figure 
turned,  but  in  his  blindness  and  semi-consciousness  he 
did  not  recognize  it. 

"  I  want  to  speak  to  you,"  he  said,  in  the  same  guarded, 
half-whispered  voice.  "Of  course,  I  had  no  right  to  do 
it,  but — " 

His  voice  dropped  and  his  eyelids  closed. 

Lankester  advanced  from  the  fire.  He  saw  Marsham 
was  not  really  awake,  and  he  dreaded  to  rouse  him 
completely,  lest  it  should  only  be  to  the  consciousness 
of  pain.  He  stooped  over  him  gently,  and  spoke  his 
name. 

"Yes,"  said  Marsham,  murmuring,  without  opening 
his  eyes.  "There's  no  need  for  you  to  rub  it  in.  I  be- 
haved like  a  beast,  and  Barrington — " 

The  voice  became  inarticulate  again.  The  prostration 
and  pallor  of  the  speaker,  the  feebleness  of  the  tone — 
nothing  could  have  been  more  pitiful.  An  idea  rushed 
upon  Lankester.  He  again  bent  over  the  bed. 

"Don't  think  of  it  any  more,"  he  said.  "It's  for- 
gotten!" 

A  slight  and  ghastly  smile  showed  on  Marsham's  lip 
as  he  lay  with  closed  eyes.  "  Forgotten !  No,  by  Jove !" 
Then,  after  an  uneasy  movement,  he  said,  in  a  stronger 


The  Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

and  irritable  voice,  which  seemed  to  come  from  another 
region  of  consciousness: 

"  It  would  have  been  better  to  have  burned  the  paper. 
One  can't  get  away  from  the  thing.  It — it  disturbs 
me — " 

"What  paper?"  said  Lankester,  close  to  the  dreamer's 
ear. 

"The  Herald,"  said  Marsham,  impatiently. 

"Where  is  it?" 

"In  that  cabinet  by  the  fire." 

"Shall  I  burn  it?" 

"  Yes — don't  bother  me!"  Evidently  he  now  thought 
he  was  speaking  to  his  valet,  and  a  moan  of  pain  escaped 
him.  Lankester  walked  over  to  the  cabinet  and  opened 
the  top  drawer.  He  saw  a  folded  newspaper  lying  within 
it.  After  a  moment's  hesitation  he  lifted  it,  and  per- 
ceived by  the  light  of  the  night-lamp  that  it  was  the 
Herald  of  August  2 — the  famous  number  issued  on  the 
morning  of  Ferrier's  death.  All  the  story  of  the  com- 
municated article  and  the  "Harrington  letter"  ran 
through  his  mind.  He  stood  debating  with  himself, 
shaken  by  emotion.  Then  he  deliberately  took  the 
paper  to  the  fire,  stirred  the  coals,  and,  tearing  up  the 
paper,  burned  it  piece  by  piece. 

After  it  was  done  he  walked  back  to  Marsham's  side. 
"I  have  burned  the  paper,"  he  said,  kneeling  down  by 
him. 

Marsham,  who  was  breathing  lightly  with  occasional 
twitchings  of  the  brow,  took  no  notice.  But  after  a 
minute  he  said,  in  a  steady  yet  thrilling  voice: 

"Ferrier!" 

Silence. 

"Ferrier!"  The  tone  of  the  repeated  word  brought 
532 


The    Testing    of   Diana   Mallory 

the  moisture  to  Lankester's  eyes.  He  took  the  dreamer's 
hand  in  his,  pressing  it.  Marsham  returned  the  pressure, 
first  strongly,  again  more  feebly.  Then  a  wave  of  nar- 
cotic sleep  returned  upon  him,  and  he  seemed  to  sink 
into  it  profoundly. 

Next  morning,  as  Marsham,  after  his  dressing,  was 
lying  moody  and  exhausted  on  his  pillows,  he  suddenly 
said  to  his  servant: 

"I  want  something  out  of  that  cabinet  by  the  fire." 

"Yes,  sir."     The  man  moved  toward  it  obediently. 

"  Find  a  newspaper  in  the  top  drawer,  folded  up 
small — on  the  right-hand  side." 

Richard  looked. 

"  I  am  sorry,  sir,  but  there  is  nothing  in  the  drawer  at 
all." 

"Nonsense!"  said  Marsham,  angrily.  "You've  got 
the  wrong  drawer!" 

The  whole  cabinet  was  searched  to  no  purpose. 
Marsham  grew  very  pale.  He  must,  of  course,  have 
destroyed  the  paper  himself,  and  his  illness  had  effaced 
his  memory  of  the  act,  as  of  other  things.  Yet  he  could 
not  shake  off  an  impression  of  mystery.  Twice  now, 
weeks  after  Ferrier's  death,  he  seemed  to  have  been  in 
Ferrier's  living  presence,  under  conditions  very  unlike 
those  of  an  ordinary  dream.  He  could  only  remind 
himself  how  easily  the  brain  plays  tricks  upon  a  man  in 
his  state. 

After  breakfast,  Sir  James  Chide  was  admitted.  But 
Oliver  was  now  in  the  state  of  obsession,  when  the  whole 
being,  already  conscious  of  a  certain  degree  of  pain, 
dreads  the  approach  of  a  much  intenser  form — hears  it 

533 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

as  the  footfall  of  a  beast  of  prey,  drawing  nearer  room 
by  room,  and  can  think  of  nothing  else  but  the  suffer- 
ing it  foresees,  and  the  narcotic  which  those  about  him 
deal  out  to  him  so  grudgingly,  rousing  in  him,  the 
while,  a  secret  and  silent  fury.  He  answered  Sir  James 
in  monosyllables,  lying,  dressed,  upon  his  sofa,  the 
neuralgic  portion  of  the  spine  packed  and  cushioned 
from  any  possible  friction,  his  forehead  drawn  and 
frowning. 

Sir  James  shrank  from  asking  him  about  himself.  But 
it  was  useless  to  talk  of  politics;  Oliver  made  no  re- 
sponse, and  was  evidently  no  longer  abreast  even  of  the 
newspapers. 

"Does  your  man  read  you  the  Times f"  asked  Sir 
James,  noticing  that  it  lay  unopened  beside  him. 

Oliver  nodded.  "There  was  a  dreadful  being  my 
mother  found  a  fortnight  ago.  I  got  rid  of  him." 

He  had  evidently  not  strength  to  be  more  explicit. 
But  Sir  James  had  heard  from  Lady  Lucy  of  the  failure 
of  her  secretarial  attempt. 

"  I  hear  they  talk  of  moving  you  for  the  winter." 

"  They  talk  of  it.     I  shall  oppose  it." 

"I  hope  not! — for  Lady  Lucy's  sake.  She  is  so 
hopeful  about  it,  and  she  is  not  fit  herself  to  spend  the 
winter  in  England." 

"My  mother  must  go,"  said  Oliver,  closing  his  eyes. 

"She  will  never  leave  you." 

Marsham  made  no  reply;  then,  without  closing  his 
eyes  again,  he  said,  between  his  teeth:  "  What  is  the  use 
of  going  from  one  hell  to  another  hell — through  a  third— 
which  is  the  worst  of  all?" 

"You  dread  the  journey?"  said  Sir  James,  gently. 
"But  there  are  ways  and  means." 

534 


The   Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

"No!"  Oliver's  voice  was  sudden  and  loud.  "There 
are  none! — that  make  any  difference." 

Sir  James  was  left  perplexed,  cudgelling  his  brains 
as  to  what  to  attempt  next.  It  was  Marsham,  however, 
who  broke  the  silence.  With  his  dimmed  sight  he 
looked,  at  last,  intently,  at  his  companion. 

"Is — is  Miss  Mallory  still  at  Beechcote?" 

Sir  James  moved  involuntarily. 

"Yes,  certainly." 

"  You  see  a  great  deal  of  her  ?" 

"I  do — I — "  Sir  James  cleared  his  throat  a  little — 
"  I  look  upon  her  as  my  adopted  daughter." 

"I  should  like  to  be  remembered  to  her." 

"You  shall  be,"  said  Sir  James,  rising.  "I  will  give 
her  your  message.  Meanwhile,  may  I  tell  Lady  Lucy 
that  you  feel  a  little  easier  this  morning?" 

Oliver  slowly  and  sombrely  shook  his  head.  Then, 
however,  he  made  a  visible  effort. 

"  But  I  want  to  see  her.     Will  you  tell  her?" 

Lady  Lucy,  however,  was  already  in  the  room.  Prob- 
ably she  had  heard  the  message  from  the  open  doorway 
where  she  often  hovered.  Oliver  held  out  his  hand  to 
her,  and  she  stooped  and  kissed  him.  She  asked  him  a 
few  low-voiced  questions,  to  which  he  mostly  answered 
by  a  shake  of  the  head.  Then  she  attempted  some 
ordinary  conversation,  during  which  it  was  very  evident 
that  the  sick  man  wished  to  be  left  alone. 

She  and  Sir  James  retreated  to  her  sitting-room,  and 
there  Lady  Lucy,  sitting  helplessly  by  the  fire,  brushed 
away  some  tears  of  which  she  was  only  half  conscious. 
Sir  James  walked  up  and  down,  coming  at  last  to  a  stop 
beside  her. 

"  It  seems  to  me  this  is  as  much  a  moral  as  a  physical 

535 


The  Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

breakdown.  Can  nothing  be  done  to  take  him  out  of 
himself? — give  him  fresh  heart?" 

"We  have  tried  everything  —  suggested  everything. 
But  it  seems  impossible  to  rouse  him  to  make  an 
effort." 

Sir  James  resumed  his  walk — only  to  come  to  another 
stop. 

"  Do  you  know — that  he  just  now — sent  a  message  by 
me  to  Miss  Mallory?" 

Lady  Lucy  started. 

"Did  he?"  she  said,  faintly,  her  eyes  on  the  blaze. 
He  came  up  to  her. 

"  There  is  a  woman  who  would  never  have  deserted 
you! — or  him!"  he  said,  in  a  burst  of  irrepressible  feel- 
ing, which  would  out. 

Lady  Lucy's  glance  met  his — silently,  a  little  proudly. 
She  said  nothing  and  presently  he  took  his  leave. 

The  day  wore  on.  A  misty  sunshine  enwrapped  the 
beech  woods.  The  great  trees  stood  marked  here  and 
there  by  the  first  fiery  summons  of  the  frost.  Their 
supreme  moment  was  approaching  which  would  strike 
them,  head  to  foot,  into  gold  and  amber,  in  a  purple 
air.  Lady  Lucy  took  her  drive  among  them  as  a  duty, 
but  between  her  and  the  enchanted  woodland  there  was 
a  gulf  fixed. 

She  paid  a  visit  to  Oliver,  trembling,  as  she  always 
did,  lest  some  obscure  catastrophe,  of  which  she  was 
ever  vaguely  in  dread,  should  have  developed.  But 
she  found  him  in  a  rather  easier  phase,  with  Lankester, 
who  had  just  returned  from  town,  reading  aloud  to  him. 
She  gave  them  tea,  thinking,  as  she  did  so,  of  the  noisy 
parties  gathered  so  recently,  during  the  election  weeks. 

536 


The  Testing    of»   Diana    Mallory 

round  the  tea-tables  in  the  hall.  And  then  she  returned 
to  her  own  room  to  write  some  letters. 

She  looked  once  more  with  distaste  and  weariness  at 
the  pile  of  letters  and  notes  awaiting  her.  All  the 
business  of  the  house,  the  estate,  the  village — she  was 
getting  an  old  woman;  she  was  weary  of  it.  And  with 
sudden  bitterness  she  remembered  that  she  had  a  daugh- 
ter, and  that  Isabel  had  never  been  a  real  day's  help 
to  her  in  her  life.  Where  was  she  now?  Campaigning 
in  the  north — speaking  at  a  bye-election — lecturing  for 
the  suffrage.  Since  the  accident  she  had  paid  two  fly- 
ing visits  to  her  mother  and  brother.  Oliver  had  got 
no  help  from  her — nor  her  mother;  she  was  the  Mrs. 
Jellyby  of  a  more  hypocritical  day.  Yet  Lady  Lucy 
in  her  youth  had  been  a  very  motherly  mother;  she 
could  still  recall  in  the  depths  of  her  being  the  thrill  of 
baby  palms  pressed  "against  the  circle  of  the  breast." 

She  sat  down  to  her  task,  when  the  door  opened  be- 
hind her.  A  footman  came  in,  saying  something  which 
she  did  not  catch.  "  My  letters  are  not  ready  yet " — she 
threw  over  her  shoulder,  irritably,  without  looking  at 
him.  The  door  closed.  But  some  one  was  still  in  the 
room.  She  turned  sharply  in  astonishment. 

"May  I  disturb  you,  Lady  Lucy?"  said  a  tremulous 
voice. 

She  saw  a  tall  and  slender  woman,  in  black,  bending 
toward  her,  with  a  willowy  appealing  grace,  and  eyes 
that  beseeched.  Diana  Mallory  stood  before  her.  There 
was  a  pause.  Then  Lady  Lucy  rose  slowly,  laid  down 
her  spectacles,  and  held  out  her  hand. 

"  It  is  very  kind  of  you  to  come  and  see  me,"  she  said, 
mechanically.  "  Will  you  sit  down  ?" 

Diana  gazed  at  her,  with  the  childish  short-sighted 
35  537 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

pucker  of  the  brow  that  Lady  Lucy  remembered  well. 
Then  she  came  closer,  still  holding  Lady  Lucy's  hand. 

"Sir  James  thought  I  might  come,"  she  said,  breath- 
lessly. "  Isn't  there — isn't  there  anything  I  might  do  ? 
I  wanted  you  to  le"t  me  help  you — like  a  secretary — won't 
you  ?  Sir  James  thought  you  looked  so  tired — and  this 
big  place! — I  am  sure  there  are  things  I  might  do — 
and  oh!  it  would  make  me  so  happy!" 

Now  she  had  her  two  hands  clasping,  fondling  Lady 
Lucy's.  Her  eyes  shone  with  tears,  her  mouth  trembled. 

"Oh,  you  must — you  must!"  she  cried,  suddenly; 
"  don't  let's  remember  anything  but  that  we  were  friends 
— that  you  were  so  kind  to  me — you  and  Mr.  Oliver — • 
in  the  spring.  I  can't  bear  sitting  there  at  Beechcote 
doing  nothing — amusing  myself — when  you — and  Mr. 
Oliver — " 

She  stopped,  forcing  back  the  tears  that  would  drive 
their  way  up,  studying  in  dismay  the  lined  and  dwindled 
face  before  her.  Lady  Lucy  colored  deeply.  During  the 
months  which  had  elapsed  since  the  broken  engagement, 
she,  even  in  her  remote  and  hostile  distance,  had  become 
fully  aware  of  the  singular  prestige,  the  homage  of  a 
whole  district's  admiration  and  tenderness,  which  had 
gathered  round  Diana.  She  had  resented  the  prestige 
and  the  homage,  as  telling  against  Oliver,  unfairly.  Yet 
as  she  looked  at  her  visitor  she  felt  the  breath  of  their 
ascendency.  Tender  courage  and  self-control — the  wom- 
an, where  the  girl  had  been  —  a  nature  steadied  and 
ennobled — these  facts  and  victories  spoke  from  Diana's 
face,  her  touch ;  they  gave  even  something  of  maternity  to 
her  maiden  youth. 

"  You  come  to  a  sad  house,"  said  Lady  Lucy,  holding 
her  away  a  little. 

538 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

"  I  know."  The  voice  was  quivering  and  sweet.  "  But 
he  will  recover — of  course  he'll  recover!" 

Lady  Lucy  shook  her  head. 

"  He  seems  to  have  no  will  to  recover." 

Then  her  limbs  failed  her.  She  sank  into  a  chair  by 
the  fire,  and  there  was  Diana  on  a  stool  at  her  feet — 
timidly  daring — dropping  soft  caresses  on  the  hand  she 
held,  drawing  out  the  tragic  history  of  the  preceding 
weeks,  bringing,  indeed,  to  this  sad  and  failing  mother 
what  she  had  perforce  done  without  till  now — that  elec- 
tric sympathy  of  women  with  each  other  which  is  the 
natural  relief  and  sustenance  of  the  sex. 

Lady  Lucy  forgot  her  letters — forgot,  in  her  mind- 
weariness,  all  the  agitating  facts  about  this  girl  that  she 
had  once  so  vividly  remembered.  She  had  not  the 
strength  to  battle  and  hold  aloof.  Who  now  could  talk 
of  marrying  or  giving  in  marriage?  They  met  under 
a  shadow  of  death ;  the  situation  between  them  reduced 
to  bare  elemental  things. 

"You'll  stay  and  dine  with  me?"  she  said  at  last, 
feebly.  "We'll  send  you  home.  The  carriages  have 
nothing  to  do.  And" — she  straightened  herself — "you 
must  see  Oliver.  He  will  know  that  you  are  here." 

Diana  said  nothing.  Lady  Lucy  rose  and  left  the 
room.  Diana  leaned  her  head  against  the  chair  in  which 
the  older  lady  had  been  sitting,  and  covered  her  eyes. 
Her  whole  being  was  gathered  into  the  moment  of  waiting. 

Lady  Lucy  returned  and  beckoned.  Once  more 
Diana  found  herself  hurrying  along  the  ugly,  inter- 
minable corridors  with  which  she  had  been  so  familiar 
in  the  spring.  The  house  had  never  seemed  to  her  so 
forlorn.  They  paused  at  an  open  door,  guarded  by  a 
screen, 

539 


The   Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

"Go  in,  please,"  said  Lady  Lucy,  making  room  for 
her  to  pass. 

Diana  entered,  shaken  with  inward  fear.  She  passed 
the  screen,  and  there  beyond  it  was  an  invalid  couch — a 
man  lying  on  it — and  a  hand  held  out  to  her. 

That  shrunken  and  wasted  being  the  Oliver  Marsham 
of  two  months  before!  Her  heart  beat  against  her 
breast.  Surely  she  was  looking  at  the  irreparable !  Her 
high  courage  wavered  and  sank. 

But  Marsham  did  not  perceive  it.  He  saw,  as  in  a 
cloud,  the  lovely  oval  of  the  face,  the  fringed  eyes,  the 
bending  form. 

"Will  you  sit  down?"  he  said,  hoarsely. 

She  took  a  chair  beside  him,  still  holding  his  hand. 
It  seemed  as  though  she  were  struck  dumb  by  what  she 
saw.  He  inquired  if  she  was  at  Beechcote. 

"Yes."  Her  head  drooped.  "But  I  want  Lady 
Lucy  to  let  me  come  and  stay  here — a  little." 

"  No  one  ought  to  stay  here,"  he  said,  abruptly,  two 
spots  of  feverish  color  appearing  on  his  cheeks.  "Sir 
James  would  advise  you  not.  So  do  I." 

She  looked  up  softly. 

"  Your  mother  is  so  tired;  she  wants  help.  Won't  you 
let  me?" 

Their  eyes  met.    His  hand  trembled  violently  in  hers. 

"Why  did  you  come?"  he  said,  suddenly,  breathing 
fast. 

She  found  no  words,  only  tears.  She  had  relinquished 
his  hand,  but  he  stretched  it  out  again  and  touched  her 
bent  head. 

"  There's  no  time  left,"  he  said,  impatiently,  "  to — to 
fence  in.  Look  here!  I  can't  stand  this  pain  many 

54o 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

minutes  more."  He  moved  with  a  stifled  groan.  "They'll 
give  me  morphia — it's  the  only  thing.  But  I  want  you 
to  know.  I  was  engaged  to  Alicia  Drake — after — we 
broke  it  off.  And  I  never  loved  her — not  for  a  moment 
— and  she  knew  it.  Then,  as  soon  as  this  happened 
she  left  us.  There  was  poetic  justice,  wasn't  it?  Who 
can  blame  her?  I  don't.  I  want  you  to  know — what 
sort  of  a  fellow  I  am." 

Diana  had  recovered  her  strength.  She  raised  his 
hand,  and  leaned  her  face  upon  it. 

"  Let  me  stay,"  she  repeated — "let  me  stay!" 

"No!"  he  said,  with  emphasis.  "You  should  only 
stay  if  I  might  tell  you — I  am  a  miserable  creature — but 
I  love  you!  And  I  may  be  a  miserable  creature — in 
Chide's  opinion — everybody's.  But  I  am  not  quite  such 
a  cur  as  that." 

"Oliver!"  She  slipped  to  her  knees.  "Oliver!  don't 
send  me  away!"  All  her  being  spoke  in  the  words. 
Her  dark  head  sank  upon  his  shoulder,  he  felt  her 
fresh  cheek  against  his.  With  a  cry  he  pressed  her  to 
him. 

"I  am  dying — and — I — I  am  weak,"  he  said,  inco- 
herently. He  raised  her  hand  as  it  lay  across  his  breast 
and  kissed  it.  Then  he  dropped  it  despairingly. 

"  The  awful  thing  is  that  when  the  pain  comes  I  care 
about  nothing — not  even  you — nothing.  And  it's  com- 
ing now.  Go! — dearest.  Good-night.  To-morrow! — 
Call  my  servant."  And  as  she  fled  she  heard  a  sound  of 
anguish  that  was  like  a  sword  in  her  own  heart. 

His  servant  hurried  to  him;  in  the  passage  outside 
Diana  found  Lady  Lucy.  They  went  back  to  the  sitting- 
room  together. 

"The  morphia  will  ease  him,"  said  Lady  Lucy,  with 


The   Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

painful  composure,   putting  her  arm  round  the  girl's 
shoulders.     "Did  he  tell  you  he  was  dying?" 

Diana  nodded,  unable  to  speak. 

"  It  may  be  so.  But  the  doctors  don't  agree."  Then 
with  a  manner  that  recalled  old  days:  "May  I  ask — I 
don't  know  that  I  have  the  right — what  he  said  to  you  ?" 

She  had  withdrawn  her  arm,  and  the  two  confronted 
each  other. 

"Perhaps  you  won't  allow  it,"  said  Diana,  piteously. 
"  He  said  I  might  only  stay,  if — if  he  might  tell  me — he 
loved  me." 

"Allow  it?"  said   Lady  Lucy,  vaguely — "allow  it?" 

She  fell  into  her  chair,  and  Diana  looked  down  upon 
her,  hanging  on  the  next  word. 

Lady  Lucy  made  various  movements  as  though  to 
speak,  which  came  to  nothing. 

"I  have  no  one — but  him,"  she  said  at  last,  with 
pathetic  irrelevance.  "  No  one.  Isabel — " 

Her  voice  failed  her.  Diana  held  out  her  hands,  the 
tears  running  down  her  cheeks.  "  Dear  Lady  Lucy,  let 
me!  I  am  yours — and  Oliver's." 

"  It  will,  perhaps,  be  only  a  few  weeks — or  months — 
and  then  he  will  be  taken  from  us." 

"  But  give  me  the  right  to  those  weeks.  You  wouldn't 
— you  wouldn't  separate  us  now!" 

Lady  Lucy  suddenly  broke  down.  Diana  clung  to  her 
with  tears,  and  in  that  hour  she  became  as  a  daughter 
to  the  woman  who  had  sentenced  her  youth.  Lady 
Lucy  asked  no  pardon  in  words,  to  Diana's  infinite  re- 
lief; but  the  surrender  of  weakness  and  sorrow  was 
complete.  "Sir  James  will  forbid  it,"  she  said  at  last, 
when  she  had  recovered  her  calm. 

"No  one  shall  forbid  it!"  said  Diana,  rising  with  a 
542 


The   Testing   of  Diana  Mallortj 

smile.     "Now,  may  I  answer  some  of  those  letters  for 
you?" 

For  some  weeks  after  this  Diana  went  backward  and 
forward  daily,  or  almost  daily,  between  Beechcote  and 
Tallyn.  Then  she  migrated  to  Tallyn  altogether,  and 
Muriel  Colwood  with  her.  Before  and  after  that  migra- 
tion wisdom  had  been  justified  of  her  children  in  the 
person  of  the  doctor.  Hugh  Roughsedge's  leave  had 
been  prolonged,  owing  to  a  slight  but  troublesome 
wound  in  the  arm,  of  which  he  had  made  nothing  on 
coming  home.  No  wound  could  have  been  more  oppor- 
tune— more  friendly  to  the  doctor's  craving  for  a  daugh- 
ter-in-law. It  kept  the  Captain  at  Beechcote,  but  it 
did  not  prevent  him  from  coming  over  every  Sunday  to 
Tallyn  to  bring  flowers  or  letters,  or  news  from  the  vil- 
lage; and  it  was  positively  benefited  by  such  mild  exer- 
cise as  a  man  may  take,  in  company  with  a  little  round- 
eyed  woman,  feather-light  and  active,  yet  in  relation  to 
Diana,  like  a  tethered  dove,  that  can  only  take  short 
flights.  Only  here  it  was  a  tether  self-imposed  and  of 
the  heart. 

There  was  no  direct  wooing,  however,  and  for  weeks 
their  talk  was  all  of  Diana.  Then  the  Captain's  arm  got 
well,  and  Nigeria  called.  But  Muriel  would  no't  have 
allowed  him  to  say  a  word  before  departure  had  it  not 
been  for  Diana — and  the  doctor — who  were  suddenly 
found  to  have  entered,  in  regard  to  this  matter,  upon  a 
league  and  covenant  not  to  be  resisted.  Whether  the 
doctor  opened  Diana's  eyes  need  not  be  inquired;  it  is 
certain  that  if,  all  the  while,  in  Oliver's  room,  she  and 
Lady  Lucy  had  not  been  wrestling  hour  by  hour  with 
death — or  worse — Diana  would  have  wanted  no  one  to 

543 


The  Testing    of   Diana    Mallory 

open  them.  When  she  did  understand,  there  was  no 
opposing  her.  She  pleaded — not  without  tears — to  be 
given  the  happiness  of  knowing  they  were  pledged,  and 
her  Muriel  safe  in  harbor.  So  Roughsedge  had  his  say; 
a  quiet  engagement  began  its  course  in  the  world ;  Brook- 
shire  as  yet  knew  nothing;  and  the  doctor  triumphed 
over  Patricia. 

During  this  time  Sir  James  Chide  watched  the  de- 
velopment of  a  situation  he  had  not  been  able  to  change 
with  a  strange  mixture  of  revolt  and  sympathy.  Some- 
times he  looked  beyond  the  tragedy  which  he  thought 
inevitable  to  a  recovered  and  normal  life  for  Diana; 
sometimes  he  felt  a  dismal  certainty  that  when  Oliver 
had  left  her,  that  recovered  life  could  only  shape  itself 
to  ascetic  and  self-renouncing  ends.  Had  she  belonged 
to  his  own  church,  she  would  no  doubt  have  become  a 
"religious";  and  he  would  have  felt  it  the  natural  so- 
lution. Outside  the  Catholic  Church,  the  same  need 
takes  shape — he  thought — in  forms  less  suited  to  a 
woman's  weakness,  less  conducive  to  her  dignity. 

All  through  he  resented  the  sacrifice  of  a  being  so 
noble,  true,  and  tender  to  a  love,  in  his  eyes,  so  unfitting 
and  derogatory.  Not  all  the  pathos  of  suffering  could 
blunt  his  sense  of  Marsham's  inferiority,  or  make  him 
think  it  "worth  while." 

Then,  looking  deeper,  he  saw  the  mother  in  the  child; 
and  in  Diana's  devotion,  mysterious  influences,  flowing 
from  her  mother's  fate — from  the  agony,  the  sin,  the  last 
tremulous  hope,  and  piteous  submission  of  Juliet  Spar- 
ling. He  perceived  that  in  this  broken,  tortured  happi- 
ness to  which  Diana  had  given  herself  there  was  some 
sustaining  or  consoling  element  that  nothing  more  nor- 
mal or  more  earthly  would  have  brought  her;  he  guessed 

544 


The    Testing    of   Diana    Mallorg 

at  spiritual  currents  and  forces  linking  the  dead  with  the 
living,  and  at  a  soul  heroically  calm  among  them,  send- 
ing forth  rays  into  the  darkness.  His  religion,  which 
was  sincere,  enabled  him  to  understand  her;  his  affection, 
his  infinite  delicacy  of  feeling,  helped  her. 

Meanwhile,  Diana  and  Lankester  became  the  sustain- 
ing angels  of  a  stricken  house.  But  not  all  their  tender- 
ness and  their  pity  could,  in  the  end,  do  much  for  the  two 
sufferers  they  tried  to  comfort.  In  Oliver's  case  the 
spinal  pain  and  disorganization  increased,  the  blindness 
also;  Lady  Lucy  became  steadily  feebler  and  more 
decrepit.  At  last  all  life  was  centred  on  one  hope — 
the  coming  of  a  great  French  specialist,  a  disciple  of 
Charcot's,  recommended  by  the  English  Ambassador  in 
Paris,  who  was  an  old  friend  and  kinsman  of  Lady  Lucy. 

But  before  he  arrived  Diana  took  a  resolution.  She 
went  very  early  one  morning  to  see  Sir  James  Chide. 
He  was  afterward  closeted  with  Lady  Lucy,  and  he  went 
up  to  town  the  following  day  on  Diana's  business.  The 
upshot  of  it  all  was  that  on  the  morning  of  New  Year's 
Eve  a  marriage  was  celebrated  in  Oliver  Marsham's 
room  by  the  Rector  of  Tallyn  and  Mr.  Lavery.  It  was 
a  wedding  which,  to  all  who  witnessed  it,  was  among  the 
most  heart-rending  experiences  of  life.  Oliver,  practi- 
cally blind,  could  not  see  his  bride,  and  only  morphia 
enabled  him  to  go  through  it.  Mrs.  Fotheringham  was 
to  have  been  present;  but  there  was  a  feminist  congress 
in  Paris,  and  she  was  detained  at  the  last  moment. 
The  French  specialist  came.  He  made  a  careful  exam- 
ination, but  would  give  no  decided  opinion.  He  was 
to  stay  a  week  at  Tallyn  in  order  to  watch  the  case, 
and  he  reserved  his  judgment.  Meanwhile  he  gave  cer- 
tain directions  as  to  local  treatment,  and  he  asked  that 

545 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

a  new  drug  might  be  tried  during  the  night  instead  of 
the  second  dose  of  morphia  usually  given.  The  hearts 
of  all  in  charge  of  the  invalid  sank  as  they  foresaw  the 
inevitable  struggle. 

In  the  evening  the  new  doctor  paid  a  second  visit  to 
his  patient.  Diana  saw  him  afterward  alone.  He  was 
evidently  touched  by  the  situation  in  the  house,  and, 
cautious  as  he  was,  allowed  himself  a  few  guarded  sen- 
tences throwing  light  on  the  doubt — which  was  in  effect 
a  hope — in  his  own  mind. 

•  "  Madame,  it  is  a  very  difficult  case.  The  emaciation, 
the  weakness,  the  nerve  depression — even  if  there  were 
no  organic  disease — are  alone  enough  to  threaten  life. 
The  morphia  is,  of  course,  a  contributing  cause.  The 
question  before  us  is:  Have  we  here  a  case  of  irreparable 
disease  caused  by  the  blow,  or  a  case  of  nervous  shock 
producing  all  the  symptoms  of  disease — pain,  blindness, 
emaciation — but  ultimately  curable  ?  That  is  what  we 
have  to  solve." 

Diana's  eyes  implored  him. 

"Give  him  hope,"  she  said,  with  intensity.  "For 
weeks — months — he  has  never  allowed  himself  a  mo- 
ment's hope." 

The  doctor  reflected. 

"  We  will  do  what  we  can,"  he  said,  slowly.  "  Mean- 
while, cheerfulness! — all  the  cheerfulness  possible." 

Diana's  faint,  obedient  smile,  as  she  rose  to  leave  the 
room,  touched  him  afresh.  Just  married,  he  understood. 
These  are  the  things  that  women  do! 

As  he  opened  the  door  for  her  he  said,  with  some  hesi- 
tation: "  You  have,  perhaps,  heard  of  some  of  the  curious 
effects  that  a  railway  collision  produces.  A  man  who 
has  been  in  a  collision  and  received  a  blow  suffers  after- 

546 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

ward  great  pain,  loss  of  walking  power,  impairment  of 
vision,  and  so  forth.  The  man's  suffering  is  real — the 
man  himself  perfectly  sincere — his  doctor  diagnoses  in- 
curable injury — the  jury  awards  him  damages.  Yet,  in 
a  certain  number  of  instances,  the  man  recovers.  Have 
we  here  an  aggravated  form  of  the  same  thing?  Ah, 
madame,  courage!" 

For  in  the  doorway  he  saw  her  fall  back  against  the 
lintel  for  support.  The  hope  that  he  infused  tested  her 
physically  more  severely  than  the  agonies  of  the  pre- 
ceding weeks.  But  almost  immediately  she  controlled 
herself,  smiled  at  him  again,  and  went. 

That  night  various  changes  were  made  at  Tallyn. 
Diana's  maid  unpacked,  in  the  room  communicating  with 
Marsham's;  and  Diana,  pale  and  composed,  made  a  new 
arrangement  with  Oliver's  male  nurse.  She  was  to  take 
the  nursing  of  the  first  part  of  the  night,  and  he  was  to 
relieve  her  at  three  in  the  morning.  To  her  would  fall 
the  administration  of  the  new  medicine. 

At  eleven  o'clock  all  was  still  in  the  house.  Diana 
opened  the  door  of  Oliver's  room  with  a  beating  heart. 
She  wore  a  dressing-gown  of  some  white  stuff;  her 
black  hair,  released  from  the  combs  of  the  day,  was 
loosely  rolled  up,  and  curled  round  her  neck  and  temples. 
She  came  in  with  a  gentle  deliberate  step;  it  was  but 
a  few  hours  since  the  ceremony  of  the  morning,  but  the 
transormation  in  her  was  instinctive  and  complete.  To- 
night she  was  the  wife — alone  with  her  husband. 

She  saw  that  he  was  not  asleep,  and  she  went  and 
knelt  down  beside  him. 

"Oliver,  darling!" 

He  passed  his  hand  over  her  hair. 

547 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallorg 

"  I  have  been  waiting  for  you  —  it  is  our  wedding 
night." 

She  hid  her  face  against  him. 

"Oh!  you  angel!"  he  murmured  to  her — "angel  of 
consolation!  When  I  am  gone,  say  to  yourself:  'I 
drew  him  out  of  the  pit,  and  helped  him  to  die ' ;  say  '  he 
suffered,  and  I  forgave  him  everything';  say  'he  was 
my  husband,  and  I  carried  him  on  my  heart — so.' "  He 
moved  toward  her.  She  put  her  arms  under  his  head 
and  drew  him  to  her  breast,  stooping  over  him  and 
kissing  him. 

So  the  first  part  of  the  night  went  by,  he  very  much 
under  the  influence  of  morphia,  and  not  in  pain ;  murmur- 
ed words  passing  at  intervals  between  them,  the  out- 
ward signs  of  an  inward  and  ineffable  bond.  Often,  as 
she  sat  motionless  beside  him,  the  thought  of  her  mother 
stirred  in  her  heart — father,  mother,  husband — close, 
close  all  of  them — "closer  than  hands  and  feet" — one 
with  her  and  one  with  God. 

About  two  o'clock  she  gave  him  the  new  drug,  he 
piteously  consenting  for  her  sake.  Then  in  a  mortal 
terror  she  resumed  her  place  beside  him.  In  a  few 
minutes  surely  the  pain,  the  leaping  hungry  pain  would 
be  upon  him,  and  she  must  see  him  wrestle  with  it  de- 
fenceless. She  sat  holding  her  breath,  all  existence 
gathered  into  fear. 

But  the  minutes  passed.  She  felt  the  tension  of  his 
hand  relax.  He  went  to  sleep  so  gently  that  in  her 
infinite  relief  she  too  dropped  into  sleep,  her  head  beside 
his,  the  black  hair  mingling  with  the  gray  on  the  same 
pillow. 

The  servant  coming  in,  as  he  had  been  told,  looked  at 
them  in  astonishment,  and  stole  away  again. 

548 


The    Testing    of    Diana    Mallory 

An  hour  or  so  later  Oliver  woke. 

"  I  have  had  no  morphia,  and  I  am  not  in  pain.  My 
God!  what  does  it  mean?" 

Trembling,  he  put  out  his  hand.  Yes! — Diana  was 
there — asleep  in  her  chair.  His  wife! 

His  touch  roused  her,  and  as  she  bent  over  him  he 
saw  her  dimly  in  the  dim  light — her  black  hair,  her  white 
dress. 

"  You  can  bring  that  old  French  fellow  here  whenever 
you  like,"  he  said,  holding  her.  Then,  faintly,  his  eyes 
closed:  "This  is  New  Year's  Day." 

Once  more  Diana's  kisses  fell  "  on  the  tired  heart  like 
rain";  and  when  she  left  him  he  lay  still,  wrapped  in 
a  tangle  of  thought  which  his  weakness  could  not  un- 
ravel. Presently  he  dropped  again  into  sleep. 

Diana  too  slept,  the  sleep  of  a  young  exhaustion; 
and  when  she  woke  up,  it  was  to  find  her  being  flooded 
with  an  upholding,  enkindling  joy,  she  knew  not  how  or 
whence.  She  threw  open  the  window  to  the  frosty 
dawn,  thinking  of  the  year  before  and  her  first  arrival 
at  Beechcote.  And  there,  in  the  eastern  sky — no  radi- 
ant planet — but  a  twinkling  star,  in  an  ethereal  blue; 
and  from  the  valley  below,  dim  joyous  sounds  of  bells. 


THE    END 


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